


Troubled Soul

by Khylara



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Peterick, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 15:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 125,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14718834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khylara/pseuds/Khylara
Summary: Patrick just wanted it to be over





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: THIS IS FICTION. No disrespect toward the band, their significant others, family members or any other real life people is intended.  
> Author’s Notes: This is set in an Alternative Universe where Pete is divorced from Ashlee Simpson but is not with Meghan, Patrick never married Elisa and there are no children. And while I have mentioned certain things that have been documented as true, I have also taken liberties/glossed over and/or practically made up certain aspects of their personal lives and band history as well as skewing when things happened timeline-wise. I am also aware of the glaring inaccuracies probably present in the hospital scenes concerning procedure and protocol in dealing with the medical emergency. I’ll say it again loud enough for the people in the back and up in the nosebleed seats to hear – THIS IS FICTION.  
> Email: melmast1970@gmail.com Comments/feedback/constructive criticism welcome. Flames will be used to warm my feet in the cold winter months.  
> Author’s Thank Yous: I would like to thank everyone for their patience with me while scribbling this – it literally took over my brain and held it hostage, so much so that I really haven’t had time for much else. Thanks also go out to everyone on my FB list who offered me encouraging words and cheerleading when I lamented EVER finishing this, especially to the Shinys, who went above and beyond. Squishy hugs also go out to certain FOB fans on Tumblr, who put up with many bizarre questions about the boys that all ended with “It’s for a fic.” This is the result. Thank you all so very very much!  
> Extra Special Thank Yous and BIG SQUISHY HUGS to my beta/editor goddess, Bast Ravenshadow, who took on this monster in spite of the fact that it’s nowhere near her fandom. She is the best. Period.

Patrick just wanted it to be over.

It had been weeks since he had managed to get a full night’s sleep and he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten a decent meal. The fact that he wasn’t eating was easy to conceal; he just shuffled food around his plate and didn’t fight back whenever Joe stole something. If any of the others did notice, they didn’t say anything. They all knew he had issues with food and his weight. Working off the pounds during the hiatus hadn’t changed that.

The sleeplessness was harder to hide, especially since he was known for staying in bed until well past noon. Luckily for him though the band had been spending far more time on the bus than in hotel rooms during the final leg of the tour. With the limited amount of privacy available everyone did their best to respect the one iron clad rule – a drawn curtain across a bunk meant the occupant wanted to be left alone. So he hadn’t had to lie about the self-recriminating thoughts that left him staring at the ceiling until the wee hours of the morning and he hadn’t had to explain just what was waking him out of a fitful sleep every night, hands clammy and tears streaking his cheeks as either his girlfriend’s shrieked accusations or his mother’s calm, cool voice echoed in his dreams.

Which was a very good thing in Patrick’s mind, especially since the constant lying was also taking its toll. He was tired of faking smiles while saying nothing was wrong and he was just exhausted from their hectic tour schedule. He was tired of saying over and over that he was fine.

He knew he wasn’t fine. He hadn’t been fine in a long, long time.

Deep down, Patrick knew what he really was: pathetic, impossible, a complete and utter mess. He had been for years and never truly realized it, ever since that fateful day when he had met Pete for the very first time. Until recently, however, he had always managed to keep things under control, burying himself in his music in order to keep the demons at bay. But now, even music had stopped being his comfort, his solace and he was tired of pretending none of it mattered. He was just so tired of everything hurting so much and not knowing how to stop it.

He had been mulling it over for weeks, carefully considering hows and wheres as carefully as he wrote a song. Why he knew. He pushes away thoughts of why the moment they surface, knowing that if he doesn’t, he won’t stop to think things through. He’ll go and do something stupid and with his luck it would all go horribly wrong. So he tries his hardest not to think about why.

_Tonight_ , he decided as he walked back to the bus alone. The others had been waylaid backstage after the show by both reporters and fans; everyone, it seemed, wanted a quote or a picture, something to mark the phenomenal success “Save Rock And Roll” and the tour had turned into. The crowd had tried to smother him as well but he had managed to escape by complaining about his aching head and strained voice. They had let him go, knowing that even after all the years spent in the spotlight he still got uncomfortable around crowds, still found himself tongue-tied during interviews and that all he wanted to do after a show was crawl into the nearest bed, pull all the covers over his head and hide until he felt like coming out again.

His band mates would be gone until probably the wee hours of the morning. That would give him more than enough time to do what he was planning to do.

_Beautiful night for it at least_ , Patrick thought as he walked, looking up at the full moon as it slowly rose over the city’s tall buildings. Warm but not sticky, with a light breeze blowing and after a near perfect show in front of thousands of screaming fans, it had been one of the best nights of the tour. If tonight was to be his last night alive, he was glad he had chosen such a nice one.

Maybe knowing that would make things a little easier for the others later.

_They’ll be fine_ , Patrick told himself as he came up to the bus and dug around in his pocket for his key. Opening the door, he gave the guard standing nearby a little wave before stepping inside. _Joe and Andy…they’ll probably be glad they won’t have to put up with my bullshit any longer. And Pete…Pete will be, too. He deserves so much better than me as a band mate, as a friend. They all do._ He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting against the sudden onrush of tears. _This way, they can find another singer without hurting the band. End of the tour, we’re not due in the studio another album anytime soon. There won’t be any baggage to deal with. They won’t have to go through all the trouble of kicking me to the curb. It’ll just all be over._ Swiping at his eyes, he pushed his glasses back on his nose and let out a heavy sigh. That was all he wanted at this point – for everything to be over.

Patrick was going to miss them, though. He had been through a lot with them over the years, and while it hadn’t all been moonlight and roses, most of it had been good.

_Especially with Pete_ , Patrick thought as he leaned against the narrow hallway wall, wrapping his arms around himself. If he pressed hard enough, he could still feel the ghost of Pete’s arms around his waist, the press of his nose against the back of his neck while they rocked through “Saturday”. The gesture had come very close to making his voice break, because he had known deep down that he’d be feeling that closeness for the last time.

_We’ve been through so much_ , he thought, remembering long days and even longer nights in the very beginning crammed in the back of their van with the instruments, screaming fights about lyrics and chords, smelly backstage closets doubling as dressing rooms and one generic hotel room after another. And through everything, Pete had been there, coaxing him out of his shyness with goofy faces and one lame joke after another, grinning at him when lyrics and melody came together and made a song they could both be proud of, slinging a casual arm around his shoulders whenever they were close enough to touch…

A lone tear slid down Patrick’s cheek. Out of everyone he cared about, he would miss Pete most of all.

_Because he can’t know,_ Patrick thought as he walked to the back of the bus, taking off his jacket as he did so. _He can’t ever know. And with everything going on and how we’re in each other’s pockets all the time, he’d find out eventually. This way…this way he won’t._ He remembered the concerned look that had been on Pete’s face not more than an hour ago; the bassist had been wearing that look more and more lately, combining it with a gentle hand on his shoulder and sometimes a worried little frown while asking if he was all right, if there was anything he could do.

How would that look change if Pete knew? If he somehow found out how Patrick really felt about him after all these years?

_He’d hate me,_ Patrick decided as he sagged onto his narrow bunk, letting the tears run unchecked down his pale cheeks. _Lying to him for so long…that’s the one thing he can’t stand…someone lying to him._ An ache suddenly filled Patrick’s chest; he could just imagine the look on Pete’s face – the anger, the disgust. _He’d hate me and tell me to get the fuck away from him and that he never wants to see me or have anything to do with me ever again. Joe and Andy…they’d be the same way. They all would. Just like…_ He shook his head, cutting off that thought almost immediately. He didn’t want to remember the calm, icy words, the ultimatum that had been given to him on his last visit to the one place he had always considered home. Better to end things now, while his secrets were still his alone and they were all still friends. Joe and Andy…Pete…they’d remember him with kindness then, instead of hating him for what he had become.

Taking off his glasses, Patrick carefully folded them up and put them on top of his pillow. Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulled out a piece of folded up notebook paper and put it next to his glasses. It wasn’t much of a good-bye note, but he had wanted to leave something, even if it didn’t explain why. He just hoped that it would be enough.

Pulling the curtain back across his bunk, Patrick went out to the bus’ tiny kitchen area and took a butcher’s knife out of the drawer. He tilted it back and forth, watching the gleam travel up and down the steel blade. He knew how sharp it was; Andy had been nearly sliced his thumb open while cutting up vegetables the other day. It would be more than sharp enough for what he wanted to do.

Briefly Patrick considered finding something that would mellow him out enough so he wouldn’t feel any pain, but he discarded that idea just as quickly. There wasn’t anything like that on the bus and he didn’t want to go back out and hit up the roadies for anything. _Besides, I don’t deserve this to be easy or painless_ , he thought to himself as he made his way back to the bus’ tiny bathroom. He shook his head; after everything he had put everyone he loved through, he deserved this to be as painful as it possibly could be.

Going into the bathroom, Patrick shut the door behind him and locked it with a soft click. Kneeling down in the shower, Patrick studied his wrists for a long moment, brushing a fingertip over the bluish veins he could see under the pale skin. _Do it_ , he ordered himself. _Do it now._ _Before the guys come back. Before you chicken out and lose what fucking nerve you have. Do it._ Swallowing hard, Patrick picked up the knife and laid the edge across his wrist, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments before cutting through his skin with one firm stroke.

He couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him, tears burning his eyes as he grasped the knife with his now bleeding hand. It was harder to do the other wrist; the blood was coming fast and thick, coating his fingers and making his grip slippery. _Got to do this. Got to finish this_ , he thought, blinking furiously to clear his vision as he bit his lip. _Can’t leave it half done. Over…want it to be over. Please let it be over…_

Finally, he managed to slash the other wrist, letting the knife clatter to the floor as he slumped against the tiled wall. Tears slowly slid down his cheeks as he watched his life bleed out of his wrists. _I love you,_ he thought, Pete’s smiling face coming to mind as he closed his eyes. _I love you so much…please…please forgive me._

                                                                        ****

“We can go grab something to eat, sure,” Pete said as he walked out of the arena’s backstage door, Joe and Andy not far behind. “Just let me head back to the bus first. I want to check on Patrick.”

Joe and Andy traded looks. “Dude, your mother hen is showing,” Joe commented as they walked.

Pete gave his band mate a sideways glance, frowning a little. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve been checking on him a lot lately,” Joe explained as they made their way around trailers and equipment trucks. “And he’s not sixteen anymore. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.” There was a pause. “Unless you know something we don’t? Is he sick?”

“Not that I know of. As for the rest…I’m concerned, okay?” Pete stopped in his tracks to glare at Joe. “He’s been weird as fuck the past few weeks. Not talking to any of us or coming with us for anything that’s not publicity related, hiding in his bunk whenever we’re on the bus, avoiding us when we’re not and not saying why…” He heaved a sigh. “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“He’s tired,” Andy said quietly. “End of the tour…he’s probably running on fumes. We all are.” The drummer cocked an eyebrow. “You know how he gets sometimes.”

Pete ran a hand through his dark hair. “I know, I know. It’s just…this feels different.” At their confused looks, Pete tried to put what he was feeling into words. “Look, I’ve been trying to keep an eye on him lately, and he’s not eating. I’m pretty sure he’s not sleeping, either. And yeah, I know he gets all quiet and curled up into himself sometimes, especially at the end of a long tour, but this? I don’t know…it’s not like how he was before. This feels deeper. And more than just him being tired.” He shrugged, suddenly feeling helpless. “I’ve just got a bad feeling about this.”

They both stared at him. “Fuck, if you’re quoting “Star Wars”…” Andy muttered under his breath as they started walking again. “Come on. We should see if he wants to go with us anyway. If he didn’t eat before the show he’s probably starving by now and I think the only thing left to eat on the bus is an opened bag of stale corn chips.”

“Actually, I finished those before the show,” Joe said as they unlocked the bus and climbed aboard. “Honey! We’re home!” he sing-songed.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Pete pushed past Joe and headed for the back of the bus. “Patrick, you awake?” he called, making enough noise so as not to startle his friend if he really was sleeping. “We’re going to go grab something to eat somewhere. Coming with?”

There was no answer.

Pete was just about to try again when Andy stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Do you smell that?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

Pete took a sniff, his nose wrinkling as well. “It smells like…I don’t know what the fuck it smells like.” Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the problem at hand. “Patrick?” Pausing at Patrick’s bunk, he tapped on the wall next to the drawn curtain. “C’mon, man. You can’t still be asleep. Not with all the noise we’re making.” He couldn’t help smiling a little at that, fully expecting Patrick to push the curtain aside and curse at them all for waking him up.

But there was still no answer.

Pulling back the curtain, Pete was surprised to find the bunk empty. “He’s not here.”

“What do you mean he’s not there?” Joe asked, confused.

“I mean he’s not fucking there!” Pete yelled, flailing a hand at the empty bunk. “Look!”

Andy looked in as well, taking in the neatly made up space. “Maybe he’s taking a leak?”

“Without his glasses?” Pete countered, nodding at the black frames sitting on his pillow. “And he would’ve yelled when he heard us call. He always does.”

Meanwhile, Joe had pushed past both of them to knock on the bathroom door. “Patrick? You in there, man?”

No answer.

Sniffing, Joe turned his head to look at his band mates. “Guys? That weird smell? It’s a lot stronger back here.” He wiggled the door latch. “And the door’s locked.”

Just then Pete noticed the folded up piece of paper lying near Patrick’s glasses. Picking it up, he unfolded it, his heart lurching hard in his chest when he read the tear-stained words written on it.

_I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore._

“ **PATRICK**!” Pete screamed, pushing past Andy and Joe to pound on the bathroom door. “Patrick! Answer me, damn it!” He waited a split second before pulling on the locked door with both hands, his panic rising when it wouldn’t budge. “Fuck! Help me get this fucking thing open!”

It took all three of them to do it, but finally the plywood door splintered and was forced off its track. They wrenched it to one side, revealing Patrick slumped unconscious in a corner of the narrow shower, blood still oozing out of his slit wrists and onto the tiled floor.

Pete immediately knelt in front of him, not even noticing the blood soaking through the knees of his black jeans as he cupped the singer’s face in his hands. “Patrick? Come on, Pattycakes, wake up for me, baby,” he begged, his voice shaking. “Come on…open your eyes for me, baby. Please, Patrick…please…open your eyes and talk to me…”

Grabbing a towel lying on the sink, Andy gave a stunned Joe a hard shove. “Call 911,” he ordered as he ripped the material in half. “And tell security an ambulance is on the way and to keep everyone back.” Nodding, Joe headed back toward the front of the bus, his phone already out and pressed against his ear.

Going in, Andy knelt down next to the two men and quickly wrapped the towel pieces around Patrick’s wrists, putting pressure on them both in an effort to stop the bleeding. “Is he still breathing?” he asked Pete, who was still begging Patrick to wake up. “Pete!” he yelled, raising his voice enough to break through the other man’s panic. “Is Patrick still breathing?”

Pete put a shaking hand on Patrick’s chest, letting out a shuddering sigh when he felt the shallow rise and fall. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s breathing,” he managed to get out, his voice trembling as he stared at Patrick with wide eyes. “He’s cold,” he whispered, one hand still on the singer’s cheek. “He’s never cold.”

“Ambulance is coming. Keep talking to him,” Andy instructed, keeping his grip on Patrick’s wrists as tight as he possibly could. _Hang on, Patrick_ , he prayed, watching the tears run unchecked down Pete’s cheeks as he continued to plead with Patrick to wake up, to hear him, to please be okay. _You got to hang on and stay with us._

Andy didn’t want to know what Pete would do if Patrick didn’t.

                                                                        ****

The three men were silent as they followed the ambulance to the hospital, with Pete curled up in the back seat staring off into the distance and Andy trading looks with Joe in the front. Pete hadn’t said a word to anyone once the paramedics had shown up, hadn’t even taken the time to change out of his bloody stage clothes. He had simply handed over the rental’s keys to Andy and crawled into the back, closing himself off from the flashing cameras and curious onlookers.

It wasn’t until the three of them were sitting together in the waiting room after filling out what paperwork they could that Pete finally spoke up. “I should have seen something,” he said, his voice so soft that Andy and Joe had to strain to hear him.

“We all should have,” Andy corrected, shrugging. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I figured Patrick was just being…you know…Patrick.”

“And we haven’t toured together like this in over four years,” Joe added. “Things change.”

“Not this much. Not this badly,” Pete said, staring off into the distance. He wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes. “He’s got to be okay,” he murmured more to himself more than anyone else. “Please…please be okay.”

Some time later, an older man dressed in rumpled scrubs stepped into the waiting room. “Is someone here for Patrick?”

They all rose to their feet at once. “We are,” Andy said, taking charge. “We’re his friends, his band mates.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “I’m Dr. McCoy,” he finally said. “Family?”

Joe shook his head, his curls flying in all directions. “Not here in LA. Chicago.”

After a moment, Dr. McCoy ran a hand thru his graying hair and nodded. “Follow me, gentlemen. We’ll find somewhere a little quieter so we can talk.” He headed down the hall, with Pete, Andy and Joe following close behind.

They finally stopped at an empty exam room. “First thing, your friend is going to be okay,” Dr. McCoy said immediately. “We gave him some blood and he stabilized almost immediately. The cuts were clean and from what I could see while stitching them up he didn’t do any permanent damage. It was close, though.” He held up his hand, his thumb and forefinger about a half an inch apart. “He missed his veins by about that much and a few major tendons by even less.”

They all breathed a collective sigh of relief. “But he is going to be okay?” Pete asked anyway, the worry obvious on his face. “I mean, he was so cold…”

“Blood loss and shock,” Dr. McCoy explained. “Your friend lost quite a lot of blood in a short amount of time. To be quite frank, he’s very lucky you found him when you did. Another ten, fifteen minutes and we would be having a much different conversation.” He paused for a moment before changing the subject. “As for everything else…you mentioned that he was in a band?” All of them nodded at once. “What does he play?”

“Guitar, mostly,” Andy answered. “And piano. He’s also our lead singer.”

Dr. McCoy nodded in understanding. “With his injuries he won’t be able to play guitar until the stitches come out at the very least,” he warned. “If you’re on tour…”

Joe interrupted. “Tonight was our last night,” he explained. “And we don’t have anything lined up after this for a while.”

“Ah, good. Because your friend is going to need time to recover, and I don’t just mean physically.” He gave the three of them a pointed look. “I hope you understand that?”

They all nodded again but it was Pete who spoke up. “Yeah, doc. We do.” The tone of his voice turned pleading. “Can we see him? Can we sit with him?”

Dr. McCoy nodded again. “He’s being moved to a regular room upstairs in our psych unit now that he’s out of immediate danger. He hasn’t woken up yet, but we expect him to any time. We’re going to keep him with us for a few days just to make sure he’s not a danger to himself or anyone else…have him talk to psychologist, put him on a medication schedule, things like that.” He nodded toward the elevator nearby. “But you can go up any time.”

Pete’s eyes closed as he offered up a silent, wordless prayer. “Thanks, doc,” he murmured, barely hearing Dr. McCoy’s retreating footsteps heading down the hall and away from them.

Joe sagged against the wall in relief. “Thank fucking God,” he breathed, raking a hand through his curls.

“Yeah,” Andy said as well. He put a hand on Pete’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Come on. Let’s go see where they stashed him.”

A quick stop to the nurse’s station gave them the room number they needed. “What I don’t get,” Joe wondered as they stepped into the elevator and he pressed the button for the third floor. “Is why go all ginzu? There were a lot of other easier ways to take yourself out on the bus and Patrick sure as hell knew where all of them were.”

Andy shot Joe a look that clearly told him to shut the fuck up even as he wondered the same thing. They all had a little something tucked in their bags for the nights they were too wired to sleep. Combining any or all of that with what Pete took every day for his bipolar disorder would have made a lethal cocktail.

“Patrick…he wouldn’t take mine,” Pete said from his place in the corner of the elevator. Upon seeing the dubious look on Joe’s face he shook his head. “He wouldn’t. He knows how much I need them.”

“As for the rest…he didn’t know when we’d be back,” Andy said as the elevator stopped and the door opened. “Maybe he didn’t want to get caught looking for them and he thought quick would be better.”

Pete was silent for a long moment as they stepped out of the elevator and headed down the hall. “He could’ve come to any of us,” he muttered finally. “We’ve been through so much together. Patrick could have talked to any one of us and we would’ve listened, tried to help.” He shook his head again, the confusion and worry plain on his face. “Anything. I…we…we would’ve done anything. Whatever he needed. All he had to do was fucking say something.”

“And if we were part of the problem?” Andy said quietly. “I honestly don’t think we are. We’ve all gotten better at saying something when we press each other’s buttons ever since we came back together, but I don’t know what else it could be.”

“He was fine before he went home during the last break a couple weeks ago,” Joe pointed out. “Looking forward to seeing his mom and his girl…he was happy.” Joe turned his head to look at Pete. “Did something happen while he was gone?”

Pete shook his head yet again. “Not as far as I know. When I asked he said everything was fine and left it at that.” There was a pause. “It was pretty clear he didn’t want to talk about it, though, so I just let it go.” He glanced at Andy. “You?”

Andy stayed silent, shaking his head instead. Technically, it wasn’t a lie; while Patrick had mentioned what had happened between him and Elisa, it had been short and to the point – a simple sentence blurted out in response to an off-hand comment he had made over breakfast one morning. But even though Patrick hadn’t specifically asked him not to say anything to the others, Andy didn’t feel comfortable about revealing his friend’s heartbreak in the middle of a hospital hallway.

Especially since it was obvious to Andy that Patrick hadn’t even mentioned it to Pete.

_And he tells Pete everything_ , Andy thought, suddenly confused. _Why didn’t he say something about this?_

Andy didn’t get a chance to wonder any further. They came up to a partially opened door at the end of the hall and stopped in front of it. After a long moment, they stepped in, all of them stunned into speechlessness by what they saw.

Patrick was lying pale and motionless in the hospital bed, his bright red hair a shocking contrast to the pillow under his head and the white blankets covering him. Bandages encircled both wrists and even from the doorway they could see the dark circles under his closed eyes.

Joe choked back a sob and turned away. “Fucking hell, Patrick…what did you do?” he blurted out. “Why?”

Blinking back tears, Andy put an arm around Joe’s shoulder even as he wondered the exact same thing. Patrick had always been the shy one, lurking behind the rest of them during interviews and press junkets. In spite of that shyness, however, Patrick was always the first of them to laugh at whatever ridiculous thing any one of them came up with. The fact that Andy couldn’t remember the last time he had heard Patrick laugh at anything shamed him to his very soul.

_He looks so small_ , Pete thought, his heart aching at the sight of his best friend lying there so pale and still, small and helpless and so much younger than he really was. How long had Patrick been in trouble and he hadn’t seen? Hadn’t noticed? How long had he assumed everything was fine when it hadn’t been?

Going over to Patrick’s bedside, Pete leaned over and pressed a kiss along the singer’s hairline. “I’m here, Pattycakes,” he whispered before pulling over a hard plastic chair and sitting down. He took Patrick’s limp hand in his, caressing the fingers with his thumb. “I’m right here.”

Patrick didn’t stir.

Joe and Andy glanced at each other; it looked very much like Pete was settling in for the duration. “Pete, what are you doing?” Andy finally asked.

Pete didn’t turn to look at him; his eyes were fixed on Patrick’s face. “I’m not leaving him,” he finally said.

“Dude, you can’t stay,” Joe countered, his eyes wide. “The hospital…the nurses…this is a psych ward. They won’t let you.”

Pete tightened his grip on Patrick’s hand. “I’m not leaving him.” His voice turned hard. “He’s not waking up all alone in a fucking hospital room.”

Joe and Andy traded another knowing look; both of them were well aware of what a stubborn Pete Wentz was capable of. “Okay…well…if that’s how it’s gonna be, then I’d better hit up the Starbucks down in the lobby for the biggest cup of coffee they have,” Joe finally said. “You’re gonna need it.”

Pete gave Joe a wan smile in return. “Thanks, man.” Nodding, Joe left.

Pulling up another chair, Andy sat down next to Pete and together they watched Patrick’s chest rise and fall. “How long?” Andy finally asked; it was time to get some answers.

“How long what?” Pete asked, feigning confusion.

Andy let out an exasperated sigh; there were times that the man sitting next to him drove him crazier than anyone he knew. This was turning out to be one of them. “Wentz, don’t even try to bullshit me right now,” he warned, waving a hand at the scene in front of him. “You’re holding onto Patrick’s hand like he’s going to give up the ghost if you let him go for even a second. You just kissed his forehead and I’m pretty sure I heard you call him baby back on the bus. So let’s try this again with you being fucking honest for once in your life.” He paused long enough to reign in his temper before asking again. “How long?”

“A while,” Pete said with a heavy sigh. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head and finally admitted the truth. “Forever. Since the day we met.”

“Fuck,” Andy muttered, running a hand over his face. A part of him wasn’t surprised; Pete had always been very demonstrative in his affection for Patrick – a hand on his shoulder, curling up next to him on the bus, leaning against him when they played onstage. He hadn’t expected it to go on for so long, though. Or to have gotten so deep feelings-wise. But then Andy remembered that this was Pete and he never did anything halfway. “Does he know?”

“Fuck, no. Are you kidding?” Pete’s voice was soft, bitter. “He wouldn’t…he doesn’t…” His shoulders slumped as he stopped and took a deep breath. “He’s straight. Moved in with Elisa and everything. He’s planning on asking her to marry him soon.” Pete’s heart did a hard flip in his chest as he remembered the look on Patrick’s face when the singer had shown him the ring. _He was so happy then_ , he thought. _I’ve never seen him look that happy, not ever._

Andy shook his head. “She left.”

Pete stared at him. “What?”

“She left. Walked out on him when he went home during the last break,” Andy said. He held up his hand to stop the million questions about to pour out of Pete’s mouth. “And no, I don’t know why. The only reason I know at all is because I made a smartass comment over breakfast a couple weeks ago and he told me. It was obvious that he didn’t want to talk about it, so I let it go.” The drummer paused. “He didn’t tell you.”

Pete shook his head, turning his attention back to Patrick. “No,” he said softly. _Is that why you did this? Did she break your heart that badly?_ For a split second he wished Elisa was in front of him so he could scream at her, tell her that she wasn’t worthy of Patrick’s love and affection. _How long have you been planning on doing this? Were you just waiting for the right time?_ His heart sank even further. _Why didn’t you tell me?_

Andy’s soft voice broke into his thoughts. “You should tell him.”

Pete snorted, immediately shaking his head. “Sure, I should. Tell my best friend – who is not only straight but just tried to kill himself – that I’ve got the hots for him. That’ll go over real well.” He paused. “I’d be the biggest asshole in the world if I did that.”

“You would,” Andy agreed. “If it was just the hots for him.” He gave Pete a long, searching look. “But it’s not. Is it?”

For the first time in his life, Pete couldn’t find his voice. He gave Patrick’s limp hand a squeeze, shaking his head instead. It was a silent admission, but one nevertheless.

“Then you need to tell him,” Andy continued, trying to be the voice of reason and praying he wasn’t fucking things up all at the same time. He put a large hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Patrick…he deserves to know that someone loves him.”

Pete was silent for a long moment. “I hurt him,” he finally said. “Before the hiatus…I hurt him so fucking badly. I was a dick to everybody, but to him most of all.” He swallowed hard before continuing. “And I promised myself that whatever I did, I wasn’t going to hurt him anymore.”

“I don’t think you’re going to. Not with this.” Being in the background most of the time, Andy had noticed a lot of things over the years. Things like Patrick not minding one bit when Pete hung all over him or the way his eyes would follow Pete whenever the bassist wasn’t paying attention. Joe teased them constantly about it, calling them an old married couple whenever they bickered or finished each other’s sentences, but in all honestly Andy didn’t think Joe was that far off. “Just think about it, okay? You’ve both changed since those days, grown up a little.” He offered Pete an encouraging smile. “You’d be good for each other, I think. At the very least he’d keep your ass out of trouble.”

“Not much chance to get into trouble nowadays with how busy we’ve been, but I’ll think about it.” Pete gave the drummer a wan smile. “You’re becoming a yenta like Joe.”

Andy shrugged. “There are worse things I could be,” he said as Joe came in, a very large Starbucks cup in one hand and something green draped over his arm.

“Any change?” he asked as set the coffee cup down on the bedside table near Pete.

Both men shook their heads. “What in the hell is that?” Andy asked, eying Joe’s arm.

Joe held out a pair of green scrub pants. “Snitched them from a laundry cart on the way back up. Thought they’d be a good idea if you’re still planning on staying,” he said, nodding at Pete. “They’re probably huge, but you can’t stay in those.” He waved a hand at Pete’s blood-soaked jeans before tossing them over.

Pete caught them, shooting Joe a grateful look. “Thanks.”

Andy gave his shoulder a push. “Go change,” he ordered, nodding toward the bathroom.

Pete reluctantly let Patrick’s hand go. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “If he wakes up…”

“He probably won’t in the five minutes it’s gonna take you to put those on, but if he does, we’ll yell,” Andy promised. “Now go, before someone recruits you to be an extra in a horror movie.”

Giving Andy the finger, Pete ducked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

The moment the lock clicked, Joe put a hand on Andy’s shoulder. “Does he…” he began, not finishing the question.

Andy knew exactly what he was asking, however. “Yeah,” he said, his own voice soft. “And no, Patrick doesn’t know.” He looked up at Joe. “And Pete doesn’t have a clue, either.”

Joe ran a free hand through his curls. “Christ, this is fucked up.”

“Think it passed that a while ago,” Andy corrected as he gazed at Patrick’s too still form. “At least the doc says Patrick is going to be okay. That’s something.”

“Physically.” Joe’s voice was grim. “But what about the rest?”

Andy didn’t get a chance to answer. They heard the faint sound of a toilet flushing and Pete came out, his hair damp and the scrub pants billowing around his legs. “You were right about the size.”

“Dude, I had about ten seconds to grab them. You’re lucky I didn’t get caught by one of the nurses wandering around out there.” Joe made a show of looking Pete up and down. “Although I think we may have found a whole new look for you.”

Pete gave Joe the finger as well. “Whatever. They’re comfortable, I’ll say that much.” He sat back down and took Patrick’s hand again. “Did he…”

“Not a peep. Doc said it might be awhile, remember?” Andy said. “He lost a hell of a lot of blood.”

“Yeah,” Pete murmured. “Thank God we found him in time, though.”

The three men were silent for a moment, all of them trying their hardest not to think about what could have happened. Finally, Andy said, “Joe and I…we’re going back to the bus. Clean things up.” He indicated the folded up jeans in Pete’s lap. “Want us to try and salvage those? We could give them to the wardrobe manager.”

Pete shook his head as he handed them over. “Just trash them. She’d ask questions.” He paused. “This…we should keep this between the four of us. If the press finds out they’ll make Patrick’s life a living hell. That’s the last thing he needs.”

“People saw the ambulance,” Joe reminded him. “They’re gonna ask.”

“Then we tell them something else. A bout of food poisoning. The flu combined with exhaustion.” The look on Pete’s face turned pleading. “Anything but the truth.”

Joe and Andy traded looks before nodding. “Nobody else’s business anyway,” Joe said, his voice firm. “And the catering was pretty questionable.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Andy said, giving Pete’s shoulder a squeeze before getting up. “Call us when he wakes up. And one of us will come by tomorrow to spell you for a while.” At Pete’s mutinous frown Andy rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to do Patrick any good if you’re too exhausted to be coherent.”

After a moment, Pete sighed and nodded. He put his free hand over Andy’s. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll behave.”

Andy backed away enough for Joe to step in and give Pete a one-armed hug. “Just hang in there, okay?” he said, drawing away enough to look at Pete. “The doc said he was going to be okay. Try to remember that.”

“I will. And I’ll try,” Pete promised, forcing a smile. “See you in the morning.”

The moment Joe and Andy left, Pete turned his entire attention back to the man lying so still in front of him. “It’s just me and you now, Trick. You can open your eyes now.” No response. “Please, Patrick…please open your eyes for me.”

Still nothing. Patrick didn’t even stir.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Pete picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. It was going to be a long night.

                                                                        ****

Pete was drifting in and out of an uneasy doze when he heard a soft, sick little moan. He straightened, squeezing the hand still in his keeping. “Patrick? Come on, man…wake up for me.” A grin crossed Pete’s face when Patrick’s eyes flickered open half-way. “There you are.”

“Pete?” Patrick licked his dry lips, trying to banish the terrible taste in his mouth. His head ached in time with the dull throbbing in both of his arms, causing his stomach to flip around so hard that he knew he’d be sick if he tried to move. His fingers tightened around Pete’s, clinging to him like a lifeline as fear rose up in his throat to choke him. “What…where…”

“Shh. It’s okay. You’re in the hospital,” Pete said, trying to make his voice as low and as soothing as possible. “You’re gonna be fine. Just try and relax.”

Patrick stared at Pete, trying to comprehend exactly what the bassist was saying to him. He looked down at the bandages covering his wrists and a sob escaped him as memory came flooding back in a sudden, painful rush. _I’m still here_ , he thought as tears welled up in his eyes. _Why am I still here? What did I do wrong?_

“Patrick?” Pete leaned closer, his concern turning to alarm when he saw the tears. “Are you in pain? Want me to get the nurse?” He started to get up.

“No,” Patrick managed to get out, stopping Pete in his tracks. “You said…hospital?”

“Yeah.” Pete leaned in a little closer. “We came back to the bus…wanted to make sure you were okay…and we found you in the bathroom.” Pete let out a shaky little sigh as he squeezed Patrick’s clinging fingers. “Thank God we found you in time.”

Patrick closed his eyes, biting his lip to keep the sobs that were choking him from escaping. Out of all the people who could be at his bedside looking so worried about him and going so far as holding his hand for God sakes…why did it have to be Pete?

He knew why. Pete did love him in his own unique way. They had been through far too much for them not to care about each other. _Just…not like I care about him_ , Patrick couldn’t help thinking, wishing with all his heart that he could just curl up and disappear. _Not like I love him._

“Patrick?” The worry was obvious in Pete’s voice as he racked his brain for something comforting to say. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Patrick managed to get out, choking on the words. _Not good enough. Not ever good enough for you. You shouldn’t have even tried to save me._ “You should’ve let me die,” he finally whispered, letting the tears he had been holding back fall. “Not worth it…not worth saving. You should have just let me die.”

“Don’t say that,” Pete said, shaking his head in denial. “Don’t. You don’t mean it.”

“Mean every word,” Patrick countered, his voice shaking. “Every word. You shouldn’t have bothered to try.” He could hear his mother’s voice in his head, telling him that she couldn’t accept who he was, couldn’t accept **him**. Elisa’s voice came next, screaming “It’s always been Pete! He’s always been first!” before slamming the door behind her. And now this – the hurt, betrayed tone in Pete’s voice. He was hurting the one person he loved more than anything with what he was saying and while it was the last thing he wanted to do, it was the only thing he could. To save his best friend the heartache he was sure of, he had to push him away.

He continued on. “Better off. You’d all be better off if I was gone.” Patrick tugged his hand out of Pete’s, shivering as he immediately felt the loss. “Pathetic mess…not worth it.” He turned his head away.

“You’re not. Don’t ever say that about yourself,” Pete denied as he reached for Patrick’s hand again. “And we sure as hell wouldn’t be better off. You’re the heart of the band. You keep us going, keep us honest. Don’t you know that? I…we…we need you. All of us.” _Me most of all_ , he thought, catching the words just in time. He continued on, his voice catching in his throat as he said, “Patrick, please. Please look at me. You have to believe me.”

Patrick shook his head, too exhausted from both the pain in his wrists and in his heart. “Just go,” he whispered. “Please, Pete…go.”

“No.” Pete shook his head as well, his mouth set in a thin, stubborn line. “I’m not leaving you. Not when you’re like this.”

“Don’t…I don’t want you here,” Patrick got out, even though every part of him was screaming that the words were a lie. He buried his face in the thin hospital pillow. “Go away.”

Silence, followed by a heavy, shuddering sigh. Even without looking, Patrick knew what the expression would be on Pete’s face – anger, frustration and bewilderment all mixed into one. He kept his eyes shut and his face turned away, knowing that if he moved he’d end up flinging himself into Pete’s arms and never letting go. _I can’t_ , he thought. _I just can’t. He deserves so much better than me. Just go. Please…please go._ The words kept echoing in his head as he laid there, keeping him stiff and still as he waited for the bassist to make the next move.

Fingertips brushed against his, making Patrick curl even further away. “Okay,” Pete said, his voice softer and sadder than Patrick had ever heard it before. “Okay, Patrick…I’ll go if you really want me to. Just…hear me out first?” Taking the singer’s silence for consent, Pete continued. “I don’t know why you’re hurting so bad, and I wish…I just wish I could fix it somehow and make you smile again, but me being here is only making things worse. So I’ll just go.” Another touch, this time on the bit of Patrick’s shoulder exposed by the hospital gown. “Just…there are a lot of people who love you, who would miss you more than anything if you weren’t here.” One final touch, this one the lightest of brushes through his hair. “Try to remember that if you can. If it helps.” The touch vanished and Patrick listened as Pete’s soft footsteps retreated from the bed and the hospital room door closed with a soft thud.

_Come back_ , Patrick thought, wanting to scream it at the top of his lungs. _Don’t leave me! I love you!_ He wanted to scramble out of bed, grab Pete’s hand and never let go. He wanted to sob himself to sleep with his face buried in Pete’s broad shoulder, with strong arms holding him up, holding him close. But most of all he wanted to hear his best friend’s voice drowning out the harsher ones echoing in his head with whispers of it’s okay, I’ve got you, I love you and I won’t let go.

Instead, Patrick curled up under the blanket covering him and cried as silently as he could until he drifted off to sleep.

                                                                        ****

Pete managed to catch a passing cab the moment he stepped out of the hospital’s lobby. After telling the driver to take him back to the arena, he curled up in the backseat and stared out the window, biting his lip in an effort to keep his rampaging emotions under control. Every thought in his head centered on the man he had left behind – memories tinged red with blood and every question starting with why.

_He wants to die._ That one thought kept coming back, echoing in his head over and over again. Each time it did his panic, his overwhelming fear of losing Patrick crept up just a little bit more. _Fuck…he actually said he wanted to die. Patrick…sweetheart…what in the hell happened to you?_ It was more than his break-up with Elisa; Pete knew that deep down. He knew deep in his heart that something – or more like a combination of somethings – had driven Patrick to the point he was at now. He just didn’t have any idea what something, because Patrick hadn’t told him.

_Not about any of it_ , Pete kept thinking. _Why? Why wouldn’t you tell me? You’ve always told me everything before._ Pete had thought they were back to being the friends they had been after being apart for so long. It had certainly felt that way during the earlier legs of the tour.

_Almost perfect_ , Pete remembered. The only thing that would have made things even better was the one thing that Pete couldn’t let himself want.

_Because he can’t know. He can’t ever know_ , Pete thought as he closed his eyes. _He’s my best friend…practically my brother…and I know he loves me. But not like I love him. Not like I’ve always loved him._  He took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes stinging with tears. _So much…I love you so much. Andy’s right. You deserve to know and God knows I wish I had the courage to tell you. Would you want to stay if you knew?_

Pete wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

After the taxi dropped him off at the arena’s security gate, Pete slowly made his way back to the bus on foot. His mind kept going back to the anguished look on Patrick’s face, the tears roughing up that beautiful voice and the harsh, self-hating words that had gone with it. What had happened to make Patrick hate himself so much? And what could he do to fix it?

_I love you so much. Loved you for years_. _Ever since the day we met and you opened your mouth to sing._ Finally arriving at the bus, Pete sank down onto the pavement, curling his arms around his drawn up knees as he leaned back against one of the bus’ huge front tires. _You have to stay. Please, Patrick…I’ll do anything. I love you too much to let you go._ Burying his face in his drawn up knees, Pete closed his eyes and let all his thoughts about Patrick combine into a single, desperate prayer.

_Please…please stay._

                                                                        ****

“Pete! What the fuck, man! Wake the hell up!”

Someone yelling directly into his ear and shaking his shoulder jolted Pete out of an uneasy doze. Blinking furiously, he looked up to see Joe standing over him, his hair going every which way and dressed in bright orange pajama pants, a battered Green Day t-shirt and fluffy green socks. “Hey,” he croaked, rubbing his eyes.

“Hey yourself. And it’s about fucking time. I’ve been yelling at you for at least five minutes.” Joe frowned down at the bassist. “You’re lucky no one smacked you upside the head with the bus door, man.” Pushing his curls out of his eyes, Joe knelt down in front of Pete. “What are you doing here anyway? You’re supposed to be at the hospital with Patrick.”

Memory came back to Pete in a flooding rush – Patrick so pale and still against the hospital’s blankets, the singer finally coming to in the early morning hours, the harsh, self-hating words that had come out of him, Patrick closing his eyes and turning his face away…

Letting out a shaky sigh, Pete buried his face back in his drawn up knees. “I upset him,” he said, his voice muffled. “He told me to leave. “Go away”, he said.”

Joe stared at him. “Stay put,” he ordered as he stood up. “I’m getting Andy and coffee. This way you only gotta tell it once.” He climbed back onto the bus, yelling for the drummer as he went.

Several minutes later, a nudge on his shoulder caused Pete to lift his head up enough to see the steaming cup of coffee two inches from his nose. Grabbing it, he took a long sip and almost burned his tongue in the process. “Thanks,” he said, giving Andy a grateful smile.

“No problem.” Dressed only in a pair of gym shorts, Andy sat down on the bus steps while Joe knelt back down in front of Pete. “What happened? And use words of one syllable. It’s still early.”

“Patrick…he wants to die,” Pete said, choking on the words. At Andy’s and Joe’s wide-eyed looks, Pete nodded and went on. “He said it himself. He said we should’ve just let him die.”

Joe closed his eyes. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath.

“Pete…he probably didn’t mean it,” Andy said, trying to keep his own voice calm.

“It sure as hell sounded like he did. The things he was saying…that he was worthless and how we’d all be better off.” The tears were back, spilling down Pete’s stubbled cheeks. “He hates himself and he wouldn’t tell me why. Kept saying he what a mess he was. And when I told him no, when I tried to tell him he wasn’t, he told me to go and leave him alone.” Swiping at his cheeks with his free hand, he turned pleading eyes to Joe. “How do you stop someone when he wants to die?”

Joe bit his lip, looking all too close to tears himself. “I don’t know,” he confessed, looking up at Andy.

Andy shook his head. “I don’t, either,” he said, his own voice soft. He put a hand on Pete’s trembling shoulder. “Pete…he was in the hospital just waking up after everything and he was probably in a lot of pain. He lashed out at the first person he saw and that was you.”

Hugging his coffee cup close to his chest, Pete took a deep breath and thought about that for a moment. “So maybe it was the pain and him hurting talking?”

“Maybe.” There was a pause. “One thing I do know is you gotta pull it together. He leans on you more than us.”

Joe put a hand on Pete’s other shoulder. “He’s right,” he agreed almost immediately. “Patrick…he’s gonna need you in one piece.”

Pete straightened, taking another deep breath in an attempt to calm down. “You’re right,” he muttered before taking a long sip of coffee, swallowing down his hysteria at the same time. He remembered the countless times Patrick had been there for him – the long, sleepless nights huddled together in the back of the van when Fall Out Boy was just starting out, the times Patrick had literally forced him to eat something or shower or even try to sleep, talking or singing to him until he was hoarse, holding him close when the last thing he wanted to be was alone.

_He needs you_ , Pete thought, taking another deep breath for good measure. _For once in his life, Patrick needs you to be the strong one. You say you love him so much? Then prove it, you fucker._ He opened his eyes, calm settling over him. _Be there for him. Be his friend._

He looked up at Andy and Joe. “I’m okay,” he said, making his voice as firm as he could and mostly succeeding. “Really. I’m okay.” _And Patrick’s going to be, too_ , he thought to himself, resolute. _I’m gonna make damn sure of that._

Joe and Andy traded looks. “Okay,” Andy said before finishing his coffee in one long gulp. “Joe and I are gonna go to the hospital later and drop off some clothes since the ER people cut his to ribbons. Are you coming with or staying here or what?”

“Staying.” At Joe’s confused look, Pete explained. “Seeing me…it might upset him again.” He ran a hand over his face, grimacing when he felt stubble. “And if I’m gonna be any good to him, I need a shower and some sleep. And my meds.”

“That has got to be the most sensible thing you’ve said in weeks,” Andy said as he got to his feet. Joe got up as well, holding out his hand. Pete grabbed it, letting the guitarist pull him to his feet. “Throw in you actually eating something in there and we’ll have to start searching the bus for pod people.”

“Which I’d be okay with,” Pete said as he climbed onto the bus, Joe and Andy not far behind. He sagged onto the couch in the lounge, suddenly exhausted. “Except I’m pretty sure there’s still no food on board.”

Joe suddenly looked down at his coffee cup before draining it. “I think we just finished off the coffee, too.”

They all stared at each other. “Nearest decent hotel with showers and room service, here we come,” Andy announced as he headed toward his bunk in the back of the bus. “Just as soon as we all get dressed in something okay enough to be seen in public in and we find the driver.”

                                                                        ****

Pete stayed away from the hospital and Patrick for the rest of the day, alternating between a restless doze in a too large, too empty hotel room and checking his phone for any news. His worry only continued to grow as the silence became longer and more oppressive. Had something gone wrong?

He was in the middle of texting Joe for the third time since he and Andy had left for the hospital when he got a ping in response. **On our way back** , the text said. **Didn’t see him but nurse said Trick OK.**

“What do you mean you didn’t see him?” Pete asked the minute they both walked in, practically vibrating with worry.

“Right before we got there one of the aides took him upstairs to see one of their shrinks,” Andy said as he settled in the nearest chair and kicked off his shoes. “Apparently it’s mandatory. If he wants to be released, he has to talk to somebody.”

Pete ran a hand through his dark hair, disheveling it even more. “Yeah, I remember. I had to do something like that after…after.” He sagged back onto the bed. “But the nurse said he was okay?”

Joe pulled up a chair as well. “She changed the bandages. Everything’s healing as well as can be expected and there’s no sign of infection, like the doc said.” He pushed his curls out of his eyes. “And he did eat something.”

“We’re guessing not a lot,” Andy added. “She had a big frown on her face when she mentioned it.” He paused. “Took whatever pills they gave him, too.”

“Yeah. They’ll put him on something – anti-anxiety or anti-depressant,” Pete said as he moved up on the bed enough to lean against the headboard. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “He’s gonna hate the talking part. Especially to a stranger.”

“Knowing him, he’ll feed whoever he gets enough bullshit to keep them off his case and keep his mouth shut about anything personal,” Joe said with a knowing little smile. “The nurse said he was barely saying anything. Enough to be polite and that’s it.”

“That sounds like our Pattycakes,” Pete said with a tired little smile. “He can be a stubborn little bitch when he wants to be.”

Andy’s eyebrows went up. “Gee, I wonder where he learned that from,” he said, his voice dripping sarcasm. His lips quirked upward in a smile of his own when Pete flipped him off in response.

“Did anyone say anything about when they’re gonna cut him loose?” Pete asked next, dreading the answer. Granted, no one could force Patrick to stay if he really didn’t want to – he could always sign himself out AMA – but there were all sorts of things that could still go wrong. Not to mention dozens of insidious little ways anyone could say “Do this. You won’t get better unless you do” and Patrick would buy into it because he didn’t know.

Pete knew. He knew all too well.

It took Pete a moment to remember that Patrick was a grown man and not the shy, scared and insecure sixteen year old he once was. He didn’t need protecting anymore. _Except he does_ , he thought, wanting more than anything to wrap his arms around the singer and not let go. _When it comes to this, he does._

Meanwhile, Joe was shaking his head. “The nurse didn’t know. She said it depended on a bunch of things like how he was responding to therapy and drug interaction and being a danger to himself and others.” The look on the guitarist’s face was equal parts frustration and disgust. “Which sounds like a load of bullshit to me. It’s Patrick, for fuck’s sake. He’s not going to go mental on us.”

_He already has_ , Pete couldn’t help thinking, barely hearing Andy trying to placate Joe from across the room. He pushed away the uncharitable thought almost immediately. Patrick was sick, not crazy. _He’ll get better. We’ll all help him,_ he thought as he wrapped his arms around himself, closing his eyes. _He has to get better. He has to. He has to be okay._

“Pete?” The concerned tone in Andy’s voice broke through the bassist’s thoughts. “You okay over there?”

Pete forced himself to nod. “Yeah. Fine.”

Andy didn’t look convinced. “Should I ask how much sleep you’ve gotten?”

“Probably not,” Pete confessed before changing the subject. “Nobody’s recognized him, have they?”

“Pretty sure no one has. And no one said anything to us, so I think he’s safe on that front.” The drummer let out a sigh of relief. “Which has got to be the only good thing about this whole fucking mess.” Picking up his shoes, Andy stood up. “Left his phone with his clothes and a note saying to let us know when he’s being released, call if he wants some company, that kind of thing.”

“Which he won’t,” Joe added.

“No, he probably won’t,” Andy agreed, shaking his head. He gave Pete a look. “You look like you don’t want any company, either.”

Shrugging, Pete offered his band mate an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Joe said as he got up as well, going over to give Pete a hard hug. “Get some sleep. You look like a zombie.”

“I’ll try. No promises.”

“Wasn’t expecting any, man,” Joe said with a knowing little smile right before he and Andy wished him good-night and left.

The moment the door closed, Pete leaned his head back against the headboard and let out a heavy sigh as he closed his eyes. He was bone tired, but he was so worried about Patrick that he knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep.

_You could text him,_ he thought to himself. _Ask if he’s okay. He’ll answer if it’s me. And you can see if he wants you to call his mom._ Pete had found comfort in going home and being babied by his own mother after his suicide attempt years ago. Maybe Patrick needed some of the same.

Pulling out his phone, Pete began to text. **Hey Trick. How are U? Wanna talk?**

It beeped back a moment later. **OK** There was a pause. **Not now.**

_Can’t blame him for that,_ Pete mused as he pushed away the brief pang of hurt. _He’s being poked at every ten minutes. Of course he wants to be left alone for now._ And “not now” wasn’t “never”. Patrick would open up to him eventually. He always did.

**I’ll leave U B 4 now,** he texted back. **Need anything? Want me 2 call yr mom?**

Patrick’s answer was immediate. **NO!!! DO NOT CALL MOM!!!**

Pete’s eyes widened. _What the hell?_ **???** he typed, wanting to be sure. Where had that come from?

**DO NOT CALL HER!** came back a moment later, followed by a pause. Then Patrick sent, **Please??? Promise u won’t.**

**Promise** Pete texted back immediately, even though common sense was telling him not to. _Do what he wants,_ Pete told himself. _He’s been through enough for now. He doesn’t need to worry about that on top of everything._ Briefly he thought about asking why, but just as quickly he pushed the idea aside. Patrick was in no condition to answer questions.

And there was probably a very simple explanation to it. _He doesn’t want to worry her_ , Pete guessed. _She’d want to fly out and with whatever happened with Elisa, the tour and now this? She wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace._

**TY** came next.

**4 what?** Pete texted back.

**4 promising. 4 not asking why.** was the reply. **Will explain but not now.** There was another pause. **Gonna try 2 sleep. U try 2.**

Pete couldn’t help smiling at that. _He knows me too damn well,_ he thought as he texted back. **I will. Promise.** After a moment, he also sent **ILU** and held his breath.

He let it out a moment later when his phone pinged. **ILU2**

Sighing, Pete dropped his phone onto the bedside table and went back to staring at the ceiling. A hundred and one questions were going through his head like lighting during a storm, but the one he kept going back to over and over again was why.

_Joe was right. He was okay before the break. Happy, even. Tired…we all were fucking tired…but he was happy_. He shook his head, coming back to the idea that it had to be more than just the break-up with Elisa affecting his friend. But what? And why had they broken up in the first place? And why hadn’t Patrick told him?

_Don’t push,_ Pete told himself firmly. _No matter how much you care about him, don’t you fucking dare push. He’ll talk when he’s ready._ He let out another heavy sigh and rubbed his tired eyes, wishing with all his heart that Patrick was lying next to him just so he could wrap his arms around the singer and not let go.

_Tomorrow,_ Pete promised himself, taking one last look at Patrick’s final text before reaching over to click off his phone. _Tomorrow I’ll go to the hospital with the guys and I’ll give him the longest, hardest hug I can manage._ “I love you,” he whispered as he flicked off the light and curled up on the bed, still fully dressed and with his arms wrapped around one of his pillows.

That night, Pete dreamed of red hair and hazel eyes only partially hidden by black rimmed glasses. He dreamed of rare, bright smiles and infectious giggles and a voice that came straight from the angels. He dreamed of a friendship he couldn’t live without and a love he ached for with all his heart.

That night, Pete dreamed about Patrick and he managed to sleep until the rising sun’s glare woke him the next morning.

                                                                        ****

Patrick put his phone on the bedside table, staring at it for a long moment before wrapping the thin hospital blanket tighter around himself. _Tomorrow,_ he told himself hopefully, clinging to that one word like a lifeline. _I hope Pete comes tomorrow._ “I love you,” he breathed, holding onto those three words as he closed his eyes.

That night, Patrick dreamed of dark hair and equally dark eyes that shined brighter than any stage lighting. He dreamed of manic grins and strong, tattooed arms and pulsing chords coming from a bass guitar. He dreamed of a friendship he clung to with both hands and a love he knew he could never have no matter how much he wished for it.

That night, Patrick dreamed of Pete and he didn’t wake up until a nurse came in to take his blood pressure just as the sun was coming up.

                                                                        ****

The next morning during breakfast, Pete’s, Joe’s and Andy’s phones all went off at once with the same message. **Being released,** Patrick texted. **Come get me?**

Pete was all for leaving right then and there. It took both Joe and Andy to talk some sense into him, reminding Pete about LA morning traffic, the fact that Patrick probably had to deal with doctors and paperwork before they let him go and they all had to finish their coffee at the very least if they wanted to function.

“And no fucking way you’re driving,” Joe announced, grabbing the keys of the rental before Pete could get at them. “You’ll go ninety miles an hour over a concrete barrier and with our luck we’ll end up in the hospital right next to Patrick.”

Pete didn’t bother arguing. Instead, he stole the other half of Joe’s English muffin in retaliation before texting Patrick. **Hang in there, Lunchbox,** he sent, using the nickname no one else was allowed to even think about. **We’re on our way.**

Luckily, traffic was light for once and they made it to the hospital in record time. “Go on up and get him,” Andy said, practically pushing Pete out of the car. “Joe and I will wait here. Less of a chance of overwhelming him.” Grinning his thanks, Pete practically ran for the parking garage’s elevator.

Minutes later, he was heading down the hall to Patrick’s room, his mind going a mile a minute. _He’s going to be tired,_ he reminded himself. _They never let you sleep more than ten minutes at a time when you’re stuck in a hospital. So he’s probably exhausted. And irritable. **And** they’ve probably got him drugged to the eyeballs, so don’t you fucking dare take anything he says personal._ He passed the nurse’s station, pausing for a moment to offer up a silent, heartfelt prayer. _Please be okay. Anything you need…all you have to do is say and I’ll do it willingly. Just please be okay._ Taking a deep breath, Pete walked the last few feet to Patrick’s room and tapped on the doorframe.

Patrick looked up, managing a wan smile as he finished pulling on his shoes. “Hey.”

“Hey, Lunchbox.” _He’s so pale_ , Pete marveled, trying not to look horrified at his friend’s colorless skin or the dark circles under his dull hazel eyes. _How did I not notice how sick he was? How sad he looked?_ Glancing at the white bandages encircling Patrick’s wrists, he quickly looked away. He didn’t want to remember how still Patrick had been, how cold he had felt.

He forced himself to smile back instead. “How are you feeling?”

Patrick shrugged, wrinkling his nose as he stood up. “Out of it. Like my brain’s lost in a fog.” He shook his head. “I think it’s because of what they’re giving me for meds. I don’t like it.”

_That’s not good_ , Pete thought as he came closer, his concern growing when he saw Patrick’s hands trembling. “Sit back down. You look like you’re about to fall over.” He gently pushed Patrick down onto the bed before sitting next to him. “What did they give you? Do you remember?”

Patrick screwed his eyes shut, fighting both the sudden wave of dizziness sweeping over him and the overwhelming desire to bury his face in Pete’s collarbone. “I don’t…no. There were three, I think. Something for the pain, an anti-depressant and one for anxiety. A little white pill, a bigger greenish one and a blue one.” Opening his eyes, he looked at Pete. “What you take…do they make you feel like this all the time?”

“It sounds like I’m on different stuff, babe,” Pete answered, immediately biting his tongue when the endearment slipped out. Luckily for him, though, Patrick seemed too out of it to notice; that was the last conversation he wanted to have right now. “Sounds like pretty strong stuff, though. I haven’t been on anything that strong in a while.”

“I remember,” Patrick’s voice turned quiet. “You were taking…what was it…Ativan? When you…when…” Patrick swallowed hard and didn’t finish.

“Yeah.” _What fucker would give him something that strong?_ he thought before stomping down hard on his anger. “Whatever they’re giving you, you’re probably gonna have to come off it eventually. Stuff that strong will fuck you up if you take it for too long. For now, though? The doctors are probably just worried about you staying calm.”

Patrick stared at the bandages around his wrists, barely hearing Pete’s words. _Worthless. Useless_ , he couldn’t help thinking. _I can’t even do something as simple as kill myself right. Of course Pete wouldn’t want a fuck up like me._ “I guess everyone wants to make sure I’m too doped up to rip out the stitches.”

Pete stared at him, his heart leaping into his throat. _He wouldn’t, would he? He’s not really serious about doing that. Is he?_ He put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder, feeling a sudden overwhelming need to touch. “Patrick…”

Lifting his head up, Patrick was surprised by the look he caught in Pete’s dark eyes. _He’s afraid? For me? But he can’t be._ It took a moment for him to see the truth. _No…I’ve seen him afraid. This isn’t it._ Pete actually looked terrified.

Slowly, Patrick reached up and put his hand over Pete’s, wanting to banish that look off of his friend’s face as fast as he possibly could. “I won’t,” he said. “I’ll promise if you want. I won’t.”

Pete shook his head, the terrified look slowly changing back into a soft smile. “I don’t need a promise, Trick. I believe you.”

Patrick blinked. “You do?”

“Of course I do. I always do.” Pete offered what he hoped was a stronger, more reassuring smile before he squeezed his friend’s fingers and let go.

Not knowing what to say to that, Patrick let it go. “So how bad is it?” he asked instead, even though he was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear the answer.

Pete looked confused. “How bad is what?”

Patrick waved a hand toward the window. “The press. The paparazzi,” he clarified. “Are we going to have to run the gauntlet? Or are we sneaking out the back?” A part of him really hoped that they were doing the latter; he was in no condition to deal with screamed questions and flashbulbs going off in his face.

“We’re going out the back, through the garage. That’s where Joe and Andy are waiting with the car,” Pete said to Patrick’s relief. “But even if we weren’t, there’s nothing to worry about. It’s clear.”

Patrick blinked. “What?”

“It’s clear,” Pete repeated a he rubbed Patrick’s shoulder. “No press. No paps. No cameras. It’s safe.”

It was a miracle. It had to be, because Patrick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “How in the…what did you do?” he finally managed to ask. “I mean…you called an ambulance the other night, right?” At Pete’s nod, he continued. “And everybody…security, road techs, fans, everybody else we deal with…they all saw?” Another nod. “So they…everybody knows?”

Knowing exactly what Patrick was trying so hard to say, Pete took his hand and twined their fingers together. “Everybody saw the ambulance take you out,” he explained, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I mean, between the bout of flu you picked up from God knows where and how exhausted you’ve been from the tour, it’s kind of a miracle you made it back to the bus before you passed out cold in the bathroom.” He paused to run a thumb over Patrick’s knuckles. “And okay, maybe we panicked a little with the ambulance, but you didn’t even tell anyone you were sick. If you had, we would’ve made sure you were okay before you headed back to the bus or sent someone out for cold medicine or something.”

Patrick couldn’t help it; he stared at Pete with wide eyes, not believing what he was hearing. “You…you told everyone…you said…”

“Yeah,” Pete said, not letting him finish. “That’s the story we gave everyone who asked – a bout of the flu combined with exhaustion. Although Joe? He’s been throwing in food poisoning as well to anyone who’ll listen. I don’t think he was all that happy with the spread catering put out.” Pete let go of Patrick’s hand long enough to brush a finger against the bandages. “The only people who know about this are the four of us.”

_They lied for me,_ Patrick suddenly realized, tears stinging his eyes. He had never felt so pathetically grateful in his entire life. _They all lied for me._ “The press…they’ll find out.” He knew what they were like, how relentless they were when they got a whiff of a juicy story. He had seen it firsthand with how they treated Pete. “They always do.”

“They won’t find out from us,” Pete promised, his voice firm. “And if they somehow find out some other way, we’ll do whatever it takes to shut them down. What you’re going through right now, it’s nobody’s business unless you want it to be. And the absolute last thing you need is the press on your ass making your life a living hell when you’re trying to get better.” A rueful little smile crossed the bassist’s face. “Trust me, Pattycakes. I know.”

_You do, don’t you?_ Patrick couldn’t help thinking as he remembered another hospital room and situations reversed. A lone tear slid down his cheek and he quickly swiped it away. _Don’t start. Don’t you fucking dare,_ he berated himself. He knew that if he started to cry now, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

_He’s quiet. Too quiet,_ Pete thought, his concern growing. _That’s not good._ An ache suddenly filled his chest when he saw Patrick put a hand over his eyes. _Oh, God…Patrick…sweetheart…_ “You okay?” he asked, leaning against the singer’s shoulder. He wanted more than anything to wrap his arms around Patrick, but he didn’t want to scare him and he certainly didn’t want to make him feel any worse than he already did. _Let me help,_ he begged silently. _Whatever you need. Just let me do something. Please, Patrick…please…_

Patrick shook his head and closed his eyes again, not wanting to see the disgust, the pity on Pete’s face. _Pathetic,_ he berated himself as the overwhelming need to be held and told that everything was going to be okay came back. It was taking every ounce of willpower he had not to throw himself into Pete’s arms. _Because he wouldn’t like that. He’d never want that, not from such a fucking mess like me…_

_Do something, you ass_ , the little voice inside Pete’s head yelled. _He needs you, and you’re sitting there like an idiot. Remember how you were after you tried? What made you feel better?_ Slowly putting his arms around Patrick’s shoulder, Pete gave him a little tug closer. “C’mere.”

Patrick didn’t have the strength to resist any longer. Letting Pete pull him close, he buried his face in the singer’s shoulder. A minute later and he was sobbing, his heart breaking all over again as his fingers dug into the sleeves of Pete’s leather jacket, trying desperately to hang on.

Wrapping his arms around Patrick as tightly as he could, Pete laid his cheek against the singer’s red hair as he began to rock him back and forth. “Shh, Patrick. It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he whispered into his ear, a lump forming in his throat when instead of calming down Patrick just cried harder. “I won’t let you go, I promise. I won’t let go.”

_Don’t let go_ , was all Patrick could think, losing himself in the slow back and forth motion, the smell of Pete’s cologne and the soft, husky voice whispering comfort in his ear. _Need you so much…don’t ever let me go._

Finally, the sobs were replaced by ragged breathing and sniffles being muffled by the fabric of Pete’s shirt. Glancing down, Pete gently nudged Patrick’s forehead with his nose. “Back with me?”

“Yeah.” Patrick drew away enough to swipe at his eyes, mortified beyond belief and thoroughly ashamed of himself. “Sorry,” he muttered, keeping his eyes focused on the floor.

He felt rather than saw Pete shake his head. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he said, his voice quiet as he slid his hand up and down Patrick’s back, rubbing away some of the lingering tension. “Everybody has a breaking point. I think you just ran head first into yours.” There was a pause. “I want to help. What can I do?”

Patrick shut his eyes against another flood of tears. “I don’t know,” he murmured as he sank further into Pete’s embrace. “I’m just…I’m so tired.” It came out as a whimper, but Patrick was too upset, too exhausted to care.

Pete’s hand slid upward to card through his hair. “You are, aren’t you? I’d be surprised if you got more than fifteen minutes worth of uninterrupted sleep last night.” _Poor, sweet baby,_ Pete couldn’t help thinking, blinking furiously to keep his own tears at bay.

Making a decision, Pete drew away enough to cup Patrick’s now flushed face in his hands. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” he began, meeting Patrick’s eyes with his own. “Joe and Andy are waiting downstairs with the car. We’ll go back to the hotel, you can grab a shower because you stink like a hospital.” That comment got Pete a wan smile in return, which the bassist counted as a victory. “We’ll call for room service because hospital food always sucks and then maybe grab a nap? I know I didn’t sleep all that well last night, either.” He paused, a hopeful look on his face. “How does that sound?”

Patrick nodded, reaching up to swipe at his eyes again. “Good,” he murmured before taking a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm down. “Really good, actually.”

Pete couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped him as he wrapped his arms back around Patrick. _Please don’t let me screw this up,_ he prayed. _He needs me so much right now. Don’t let me fuck everything up by saying or doing the wrong fucking thing like I usually do._ “It’s going to be okay,” Pete said out loud as he went back to rubbing Patrick’s back. “I swear to you, everything’s going to be okay.”

Patrick looked up. “How?”

Pete was so surprised by the question that all he could do was stare, at a loss for words. “Fuck if I know,” he finally said. Reaching out, he brushed a lock of hair out of Patrick’s red-rimmed eyes. “But we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

Patrick managed a smile even as his heart cracked just a little bit more. _He doesn’t mean it like you want him to,_ he berated himself harshly. _He means it like it’s always been. Accept it and be grateful, asshole._ “Okay.”

The smile Pete gave him warmed his heart and broke it at the same time. “Okay, then. Need anything before we bounce?”

Taking that as his cue to let Pete go, Patrick slowly pulled away, nodding. “The nurse left right before you did and gave me all that.” He waved a hand at the stack of papers and the small white bag on the nightstand. “She went over everything, but I’m still not sure I got it all. I’ll have to read over everything again when the fog clears.” He shivered; without Pete’s arms around him, he was suddenly achingly cold. He just hoped that Pete wouldn’t notice.

Pete did. “Are you cold? Joe and Andy…they didn’t think to bring a jacket for you, did they?” He eyed the black t-shirt Patrick had on before stripping off his leather jacket and holding it out. “Here. Put this on.”

Slipping it on, Patrick immediately smiled. Not only were the sleeves long enough to cover the bandages, but it was still warm from Pete’s body heat. _Almost as good as him hugging me_ , he thought, losing himself in the feeling for just a moment. “Thanks.”

Pete couldn’t help smiling as well. “Any time.” _That’s better,_ he thought as normal coloring came back to Patrick’s cheeks. He reached into the pocket of his hoodie. _Just one thing missing._ “And you probably need these.” He pressed the black-rimmed glasses into Patrick’s hand.

Letting out a happy little sigh, Patrick immediately put them on. “Thanks. I was starting to go cross-eyed,” he said as he blinked, the blurry edges of everything immediately clearing.

Pete grinned. “There’s my Pattycakes.” He slung an arm around Patrick’s shoulders, making sure to grab the paperwork and the bag before gently steering him toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

_Not yours_ , Patrick thought as he walked with Pete, trying to keep his sudden change of mood from showing on his face. _Never yours. Not really. But this is enough_. He leaned into Pete, moving just a little bit closer as he tried not to wish for more. _It’ll have to be._

                                                                        ****

After two rib-creaking hugs from Andy and Joe, Patrick slid into the backseat of the waiting car for the drive back to the hotel, Pete not far behind. They were barely out of the hospital’s parking garage when Pete felt a weight land on his shoulder, followed by a soft snore. He looked over and smiled; Patrick was sound asleep.

_The poor baby. Not surprised one damn bit_ , he thought as he carefully shifted enough for Patrick’s head to settle on his chest. He slid an arm around the singer’s shoulders, holding him steady as the car swayed. _It’s gonna be okay_ , he thought as he ran a hand through Patrick’s bright hair _. I swear to you, whatever it takes…I’m gonna make sure you’re okay._

Joe looked over his shoulder, his eyes going wide as he took in the scene from the back seat. “Dude, he’s out?” he asked, keeping his voice as low as possible. When Pete nodded, Joe let out a soft whistle. “Damn, that was quick.”

Andy snorted. “Have you ever gotten a decent night’s sleep in a hospital ever?” he asked as he turned onto the highway. “If they’re not poking at you or asking you the same five questions over and over again, they’re taking your blood pressure at four in the morning. I’m surprised he made it to the car.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed as he gave Patrick another, more closer look. “He looks like hell,” he muttered. “And he’s lost more weight. I could feel it when I hugged him.”

“You know, he can probably fucking hear you in his sleep,” Pete growled as he curled protectively around Patrick. He looked down at the sleeping singer, marveling again at how young and vulnerable he looked. “He’ll be okay. He just needs some sleep and something decent to eat and someone to look after him for a while.”

“And you’re volunteering,” Joe said, both of his eyebrows going up. When Pete didn’t answer Joe’s lips quirked upward in a smile. “Mother hen, dude.”

Pete glared at his band mate. “Shut up.”

“No, seriously, man. It’s cute. Bordering on fucking adorable.”

“Joe…” Andy warned as he went around a station wagon; the last thing they needed in rush hour traffic was a display of Pete’s temper.

Pete, however, surprised them both. “I’m not leaving him,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Say whatever the fuck you want, I don’t care. But I’m not leaving him to deal with this all by himself.” He tightened his hold on Patrick’s shoulder, trying not to remember him lying limp and still in the shower or the stickiness of his friend’s blood on his hands. He never wanted to see or feel either ever again.

He closed his eyes, banishing the unwanted images with a shake of his head. “I’m not leaving him, Joe,” he said a third time, putting everything he had into his words. “He never left me. Not when I really needed him.”

In the front seat, Joe and Andy traded knowing looks. “So did they put him on stuff?” Andy asked, changing the subject as he took the exit that would lead them to their hotel.

“Yeah. Painkillers, anti-anxiety, anti-depressant.” Pete’s voice was somber. “He was pretty doped up when I got there. And he’s gonna be shaky until he gets used to them.”

“But they’ll help, right?” Joe asked, the worry plain on his face. “I mean, he won’t…you know…” He swallowed hard and didn’t finish.

“He won’t,” Pete said, looking up. “He promised me. And he hasn’t broken a promise to me yet.”

Joe let out a huge sigh of relief as he sagged against the backrest. “Thank God.”

Pete was just about to agree with him when Andy spoke up. “Uh oh.”

The bassist frowned. “What?”

“Press.”

Craning his neck to see, Pete caught a glimpse of TV cameras and news vans. “Fuck,” he muttered. “They weren’t here when we left.”

“They’re not here for us, I don’t think,” Joe said as he pulled out his phone and checked. “Stones are playing seven sold-out shows starting tonight. And this is the closest hotel to the arena. They must be staying here, too.”

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Pete muttered again. “There’s no way in hell Patrick’s gonna be able to run the gauntlet.”

“And I wouldn’t ask him to even if he could,” Andy said as he turned toward the parking garage at the back of the hotel. “We’ll go in this way instead.”

Pete sighed with relief as Andy entered and began making his way up the ramp. “Thanks, man.” There was a pause. “Sorry for taking your head off.”

Andy shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for. You’re worried about Patrick. I think that grants you a little leeway with everything.”

Once they got to their floor, Andy pulled into the spot closest to the door and shut off the car. He turned around to look at Pete and Patrick. “I can probably carry him,” he offered, nodding at the still sleeping singer.

Pete shook his head, knowing how mortified Patrick would be if he woke up and Andy was carrying him princess-style. “No. I’ll wake him.” He turned his attention to the man in his arms. “Patrick? C’mon Pattycakes…time to wake up.” No response. Pete gently shook his shoulder next. “Patrick.”

Patrick jolted awake with a start, his fingers digging into the arm around his waist. “Pete?” His voice was thin and high; he sounded terrified.

“It’s okay,” Pete quickly reassured him. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.” He gave Patrick’s shoulder a squeeze. “We’re at the hotel.”

“Oh.” Patrick ducked his head, going under his glasses to rub his aching eyes. “Sorry.”

“No need for sorry,” Pete murmured, his heart going out to him. “Come on. Let’s go in so you can lie back down.”

Together the four men went into the hotel and headed down the hall. “Joe and I are across the hall from you two,” Andy said, more for Patrick’s benefit than Pete’s. “Yell if you need anything, okay?”

“It’s going to be room service and bed, I think,” Pete said as he looked at the pair ahead of him. Joe had an arm around Patrick to keep him from stumbling and the redhead was clutching at his friend’s shirt in an effort to stay upright. “He’s wiped out and I’m not much better.” He offered the drummer a wan smile. “But thanks. If we decide to venture forth, I’ll let you know.”

“Even if it’s just to migrate over,” Andy said as they walked. “You feel like company, knock.”

Meanwhile, Joe and Patrick had stopped in front of the doors to their rooms when Joe suddenly swept his band mate into a hard hug. “Glad you’re still with us,” he whispered into Patrick’s ear.

Patrick’s eyes prickled with tears as he returned the hug with everything he had. He couldn’t say a word; all he could do was cling, taking comfort in his friend’s embrace.

 The moment Joe let him go, Andy did the same. “Get some rest,” he said softly.

Patrick let out a weak chuckle. “I don’t think Pete is going to let me do anything else.”

“Then let him take care of you,” Andy whispered. “He loves you.”

Patrick screwed his eyes shut as he buried his face in the drummer’s massive chest. “I know he does.” _Not like I do. Never like I do. He couldn’t ever like I do._ “I will,” he murmured instead. “I promise. I will.” Reluctantly letting go, he followed Pete into the hotel room and let the door shut behind him.

“Bought your bag and your laptop from the bus,” Pete said, indicating the bed by the windows with a nod.

“Thanks,” Patrick said as he sank onto the bed. _He always remembers_ , he thought, his heart aching. Patrick liked having a window open whenever they stayed in a hotel, saying it helped his voice after hours in closed in buses and airplanes. It was a fact Pete hadn’t forgotten once, not in all the years they had known each other.

_He looks so tired_ , Pete thought as he watched Patrick kick off his sneakers. He forced himself to look away; staring would lead to questions he didn’t want to answer just yet. “So…room service?” he asked instead, hovering by the phone.

Taking off his glasses, Patrick rubbed his eyes. “Honestly? I’m not really hungry,” he said as he put them on the bedside table.

Pete immediately shook his head. “Patrick, you have to eat.” His tone was serious. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to, but the stuff you’re on? You’ll be sick if you don’t.”

Patrick grimaced as his stomach suddenly flipped. _That explains how I’ve been feeling all morning_ , he mused, wrapping an arm around himself. “Pancakes?” He was pretty sure he could stomach pancakes.

Pete nodded, grinning. “Pancakes it is. By the time you’re done in there,” He waved a hand toward the bathroom. “they should be up.” He reached for the phone as Patrick unzipped his suitcase.

And stopped to stare at his bandaged wrists.

“What’s wrong?” Pete asked, stopping as well.

Patrick looked up. “I don’t think I’m supposed to get them wet right away,” he said, holding up his wrists. “The nurse said something about it while she was going over the discharge paperwork with me.” He let his hands fall limply into his lap, suddenly at a loss. Between two days in the hospital and jumping around onstage for over two hours before that, Patrick was feeling particularly grubby; he had been looking forward to a shower.

“Fuck,” Pete muttered, his brow furrowing as he tried to think of a solution. After a moment, he remembered the maid’s cart at the other end of the hall. “Be right back.” Before Patrick could ask any questions, he left the room.

The maid was nowhere to be seen, so Pete grabbed two trash bags from her pile, tucking a twenty in amongst her cleaning bottles as an exchange. Going back to their room, he held them out to Patrick with a triumphant grin. “Give me a sec and I’ll fix you right up,” he said as he put them down long enough to start digging through his own bag.

All Patrick could do was stare at him. “What in the world are you looking for?” he asked, wondering if he should offer to help.

Pete wasn’t listening. “Damn it, I could’ve sworn I had…here it is!” He pulled out a very squashed half-used roll of duct tape.

The look on Patrick’s face turned confused. “Duct tape? Why are you carrying around duct tape? And what are you planning on using it for?”

Picking up the trash bags, Pete sat down next to Patrick on the bed. “Ever have a broken leg as a kid?”

“Arm, actually. But I still don’t…oh.” He watched as Pete carefully wrapped first one wrist and then the other in the clear trash bags, taping them on securely with the duct tape. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” Finishing up, Pete tossed the roll back onto his suitcase and surveyed his handiwork. “That should keep things dry enough.” He looked up, a proud grin crossing his face. “Duct tape and trash bags…a punk’s best friends.”

The look on Patrick’s face softened as he grasped Pete’s hands _. I love you. I’ve always loved you. Love me…please love me,_ he wanted to say, his heart aching. What came out was, “No. You are.”

Pete’s grin softened as well, turning into a real smile. He squeezed Patrick’s fingers, thinking over and over, _Love you…I love you so much. I wish I could tell you how much I want forever with you. You deserve to know._ “So are you,” he said instead, his voice quiet. Reluctantly, Pete let go, gently pushing at Patrick’s shoulder. “Now, go on. Shower. You reek.”

Picking up his shower things and a clean set of clothes, Patrick gave Pete one last smile before going into the bathroom. All Pete could do was watch him go, his hands still tingling from the other man’s touch.

                                                                        ****

Patrick bounded up the stairs leading to his condo, a wide grin on his face as he pulled his keys out of his left jacket pocket. He patted his right pocket, making sure for the thousandth time that the ring box was safe and secure. _I can’t wait to see her face when I ask her,_ he thought as he unlocked the door. _Maybe I won’t wait for dinner. Maybe I’ll ask her right after she gets home? What was she doing today anyway?_ He couldn’t remember off the top of his head and he hadn’t called her before flying home, wanting it to be a surprise.

He was still considering both options when he walked in and saw two suitcases sitting by the sofa with Elisa’s jacket draped over them both. _What the ever loving fucking hell?_ “Elisa?” he called, heading for the bedroom.

He found his girlfriend calmly pulling clothes off of hangers and stuffing them into an overnight bag. A quick glance around the room told him even more – empty drawers, perfume bottles and jewelry box missing from the top of the dresser and the table on her side of the bed cleared of her usual debris. He stared at her, at a loss. “Elisa? What’s going on?”

“I’m leaving.”

The look on Patrick’s face changed from confused to stunned as he felt his stomach drop to somewhere around his knees. “What? Why?”

She looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You know damn well why,” she snarled. “How long have you been fucking him?”

Patrick’s eyes went wide behind his glasses. “Excuse me?”

“Pete.” She spit out the bassist’s name. “How long? A month? A year? The entire time we’ve been together? Or has it been even longer?”

“I’m not fucking Pete!” Patrick exclaimed, a horrified look replacing the stunned one as he felt his heart clench.

Elisa folded her arms across her chest. “So he fucks you, then? Honestly, that’s pretty much how I thought things went.”

“We’re not sleeping together!”

“Of course you’re not, because according to you, he doesn’t sleep.” Her eyes narrowed. “Which of course you know about in great detail.”

“Of course I know! We ride on the same tour bus!” Patrick yelled. “He wakes me up in the middle of the night telling me he can’t sleep only about every other day!” Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down. “Elisa…sweetheart…I don’t know who in the hell told you I was, but I am not having sex with Pete.”

“No one told me anything. I just know. And maybe you’re not doing anything about it now…which I highly doubt…but you want to, don’t you? You want to, you bastard.” A lone tear slid down her cheek. “I’ve heard you, Patrick. You say his fucking name in your sleep.”

“He’s my best friend,” Patrick said, a numb feeling creeping over him. “We’ve known each other for over thirteen years, for God sakes. We’ve been through everything.” He paused, trying to think of something, anything that would make her see reason. “I was best man at his wedding!”

“And look how well that turned out! She left him inside of three years and I damn well can guess why!” Elisa shot back. “You don’t see how he looks at you when you’re not looking, how he touches you all the time and hangs all over you on stage. He’s just biding his time.” Stuffing the last of her clothes into the bag, she zipped it shut with a hard jerk. “He’s just waiting for me to be out of the picture and for you to finally realize things. And you want it. Deep down, you want it, too.” She paused, glaring at him in spite of the tears streaking her cheeks. “You always put him first. Before your family. Before even me.”

“That’s not true…”

“It is true!” Elisa shrieked. “It’s always been true since the day I met you! It’s all about Pete! He’s always been first for you and everybody knows it! Admit it!” She didn’t wait for him to reply; she slung her bag over her shoulder instead. “Well, I’m not going to play second best to Pete fucking Wentz. Not anymore.”

The lump that was the ring box in his pocket was almost as heavy as the lump in his throat as Patrick followed his girlfriend out of the bedroom. “Elisa…sweetheart…I love you,” he finally said, willing to do anything, say anything if it got her to stay. “Please stop. Just stop and stay so we can talk about this?”

“There’s nothing more to talk about.” Picking up her purse, she slung it over her shoulder as well. “And maybe you do love me. But you love Pete more.” Opening the front door, she picked up both suitcases and set them outside on the landing before turning to give Patrick one last look. “I know who you gave your heart to, Patrick. And it sure as hell wasn’t me.” With that, she stormed out of the condo, slamming the door behind her.

                                                                        ****

The sound of the slamming door from his dream jolted Patrick out of sleep, tearing a whimper out of his throat as he sat up in bed. _She was right. God help me, but she was right about Pete. It was always about him. How could I let things go so far? How could I have done that to her?_

“Patrick?” The singer looked up to see Pete hovering nearby, the concern plain on his face. “You okay over there?”

Forcing himself to nod, Patrick ran his hand over his face, annoyed at the escaping tears. Why was he still crying over every little thing? “Yeah…sorry,” he muttered, ducking his head. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Pete shook his head. “You didn’t. I was writing.” He waved a hand at the opened notebook on his bed before sitting down on Patrick’s. “Nightmare?”

Patrick immediately curled up, burying his face in his drawn up knees. “Yeah…kinda,” he murmured. Granted, it wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie, either.

Moving closer, Pete put his hand on Patrick’s back and began to rub. “I used to get them on the time. Especially before I got my meds switched around. Some of them…they can really fuck with your head.” He paused. “Wanna talk about it? Might help.”

Patrick shook his head, his face still hidden. The last thing he wanted Pete to know about was what he was trying so hard to hide. _God help me, I’m pathetic,_ he couldn’t help thinking, praying with everything he had that Pete wouldn’t ask any more questions.

Luckily for him, Pete didn’t. “Okay,” he said, his voice soft. “If you do, I’m here. Okay?” He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “You slept pretty much all day. Are you hungry? I can call down again.”

Finally lifting his head up, Patrick shook his head. “No, I’m still tired.” That wasn’t a lie; he was still exhausted, even after sleeping for so long. “I’m going to try and get some more sleep.” He paused. “You don’t have to stay and babysit if you don’t want. I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Pete answered, frowning a little. “And it’s not babysitting.” He tapped his temple with his finger. “Too much going on up here. If I don’t get it out I’ll be driving everyone crazy and this is the first stretch of quiet we’ve had in days for me to actually do that.” He smiled. “Keeping you company is a bonus.”

Patrick wrinkled his nose. “I would’ve called it drawing the short straw,” he said as he started to lie back down.

Before he could, however, Pete grabbed his arm right above the bandage. “Don’t,” he said, his frown deepening. “Don’t put yourself down like that. I don’t like it.” He paused. “And before you say it doesn’t matter, it matters to me.”

Glancing down at the hand on his arm, Patrick looked up and met Pete’s dark eyes with his own. _He cares_ , he realized, swallowing hard. _I know he does. I just wish…_ He ruthlessly pushed that thought aside before putting his hand over Pete’s. “Okay,” he said softly, forcing a smile. “I’ll try. You know how I get.”

“I do know. That’s why I’m reminding you.” Pete was still smiling as he curled his fingers around Patrick’s, squeezing them briefly before letting go. “Try to sleep if you can, Lunchbox. Okay? I’ll be here to keep the demons away.”

_God, I wish you could_ , Patrick thought as he lay back down, tears once again pricking at his eyes. More than anything, he wanted to lay his head on Pete’s chest and listen to his heartbeat as he drifted off to sleep. He’d be safe from his dreams in Pete’s strong arms. He was sure of it.

The room was quiet enough so he could hear Pete’s pen scratching against paper as he wrote. The bassist was humming something under his breath as he scribbled, low enough so Patrick had to strain to hear. When he finally figured out what it was, the tears came back and he had to put his hand over his mouth in order to stifle the sob that escaped.

_It would be that one_ , he thought as he buried himself back under the covers, his heart aching as the familiar melody washed over him. Closing his eyes, Patrick let Pete’s humming of “What A Catch, Donnie” lull him to sleep.

                                                                                                             *****

“Here. Let me help you with those,” Pete said as he watched Patrick tear at the bandages the next morning.

“I can manage,” Patrick bit out as he pulled at the medical tape holding them on.

Frowning, Pete was about to start arguing with him when his cellphone rang. “Hold that thought,” he said as he pulled it out of his pocket and clicked it on without seeing who it was. “Yeah.”

“How’s our boy doing?”

Andy. “He’s okay,” Pete said, lowering his voice as he moved to the other side of the room. “Ate something. Slept pretty much the rest of yesterday and all of last night. Only woke up from a nightmare once.” He let out a sigh. “Which is a blessing considering what those fuckers put him on.”

“Has he said anything?”

Pete shook his head even though Andy couldn’t see. “Not yet. And I’m not pushing.” He glanced over at Patrick, who had one wrist unwrapped and was working on the other. “He’ll talk when he’s ready to.”

“Which could be tomorrow or the twelfth of never,” Andy commented with a sigh of his own. “Has he said anything about wanting to go home?”

“Not a word.” Pete lowered his voice even more. “And when I asked him if he wanted me to call his mom he said no.”

“Really?” Andy sounded surprised. “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah. Fuck if I know what’s going on.” He ran a hand over his hair. “I’ll talk to him. See what he says.”

“Joe and I are flying back to Chicago tonight,” Andy said. “Knock on our door when you two have gotten yourselves together and we’ll go grab something to eat before we go.”

“Will do.” Pete said before hanging up and slipping it back in his pocket.

“Guys checking up on me?” Patrick asked, not looking up.

“Andy. Joe was probably lurking around back there somewhere listening in.” He sat down next to Patrick on the bed. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Fine.”

_You don’t sound fine_ , Pete couldn’t help thinking as he watched Patrick strip off the remaining tape and gauze. The clipped words, the edge in his voice, the scowl on his face – all clear signs of Patrick’s temper being up. _You’re the furthest thing from fine I’ve ever seen._

Taking a chance, he picked up the antibiotic cream. “Here. Let me fix you up.”

“I can manage,” Patrick growled through gritted teeth. “I’m not fucking helpless. And I’m not a child who needs to be coddled and checked up on.”

Pete took a deep breath. _Do not take it personally_ , he told himself. _He’s lashing out because he’s in pain and you’re the only one he can lash out at._ “Do you know how close we came to losing you?” he finally asked, keeping his voice as even as possible. “The emergency room doc said that if you had cut just a little bit deeper or if we had been ten minutes later in finding you, you wouldn’t be here right now. So forgive us if we’re getting a little obsessive about making sure you’re still with us.” He paused. “The three of us…we’re your friends. We’re gonna worry about you whether you like it or not.”

Patrick’s hands fell into his lap and to Pete’s horror his eyes filled with tears. “Sorry…I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “I shouldn’t be taking everything out on you.”

“I know why you are,” Pete said, his voice softening. He put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder and began to rub. “Everything’s off kilter and you’re trying to get control back. I know that.” He moved a little closer, pressing himself against Patrick. He rested his cheek against his friend’s bright hair. “I want to help. We all do.”

Patrick let out a shaky little sigh and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “It’s just…my wrists are throbbing. And my head aches.”

_And you’ve never dealt well with pain,_ Pete thought, remembering migraines, sprained ankles and bloody fingers from too much guitar playing. Resisting the urge to kiss Patrick’s forehead, Pete slowly drew away. “The hospital gave you something for the pain, right?”

Patrick nodded. “Pills are in the bathroom.” He started to get up.

Pete gently pushed him back down. “I’ll get them. You stay put.” Patting his shoulder, Pete headed for the bathroom.

He came out minutes later with a frown on his face. “This is pretty strong stuff,” he said, rattling the pill bottle. “And it’s another one of those you shouldn’t take on an empty stomach.” He paused. “I’ve got Tylenol in my bag. Want to try that first and see how you feel after you eat?”

Patrick managed a weary nod. “Yeah. Especially if it’s that strong. I’m out of it as it is.”

Pete nodded in agreement. “Let me get you some water.” He went back into the bathroom, coming out moments later to hand the singer two little white pills.

Patrick dutifully swallowed them down before taking the glass from Pete. “Thanks.” He drank half of it before putting it on the nightstand. Then, hesitating a little, he gestured to his stitched up wrists. “Can you help me with these?”

A soft smile suddenly appeared on Pete’s face. “Sure.” Sitting down next to him, he suddenly wiggled his fingers in front of the singer’s nose. “See? Washed my hands and everything.”

Patrick couldn’t help giggling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Anything to get a smile back on your face, Pattycakes,” Pete answered with a grin as he took the bag of medical supplies out of Patrick’s lap and began looking through it. “Looks like they gave you everything you need for now. How long did they say the stitches have to stay in?”

“About a week, I think.” He winced as Pete took his hands and pulled them closer, his wrists facing up. “Pretty gruesome, huh?”

Pete shook his head. “They actually don’t look that bad,” he said as he looked them over. “Remind me of my girl Sally.” He turned his arm enough so Patrick could see Jack and Sally smiling on his arm. “Let me get something to clean the guck off.” He disappeared back into the bathroom.

Coming out with a wet washcloth and several towels, Pete sat back down on the bed and laid one over his lap. “Here. Come a little closer,” he instructed. When Patrick did, Pete took one wrist and began to gently dab at it with the washcloth. “Tell me if I hurt you, okay?”

“I will.” He watched as Pete carefully washed the stitches. “So what else did Andy and Joe say after checking up on me?”

“They want us to knock on their door once we’re decent enough for civilized company,” Pete said as he worked. “They’re flying back to Chicago this afternoon.” He paused, looking up. “Wanted to know if you were coming with.”

Patrick immediately froze. “No,” he finally said, his eyes wide as he shook his head. “No.”

_What the hell?_ Pete thought, stopping. He could feel Patrick’s hands trembling in his, how sweaty they had become almost immediately. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Patrick averted his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” Pete gently grasped Patrick’s fingers, stilling them. “Your hands are shaking, your face is as white as this towel and you’re acting like going home is the worst thing that could ever happen to you.” His voice softened. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know,” Patrick murmured even as he cringed inwardly at the lie. _Not this._ _You can’t ever know this_ , he thought as he stared at their joined hands. _You’d hate me if you knew it all._ But he also knew that Pete wouldn’t leave it alone until he was told something. _Some of the truth, then_ , Patrick decided. _Maybe if he knows some of it, he won’t ask about the rest._ It was all he could hope for.

“I don’t really have a home to go back to,” Patrick finally said, looking up. At the confused look on Patrick’s face, he explained further. “Elisa left.”

To his surprise, Pete nodded. “Andy told me,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m sorry.”

Ducking his head back down, Patrick shook his head. “No need for you to be,” he murmured. “It doesn’t matter.”

Pete let go of his hand long enough to cup his cheek and lift his head up enough so their eyes could meet. “Of course it matters. And I’m sorry you’re hurting so much from it.” Letting go, Pete picked up the antibiotic ointment and began smearing it over Patrick’s stitches. “You were going to propose, weren’t you? I remember you talking about it. You even showed me the ring you found for her.”

Patrick nodded as he watched. “Had it in my pocket when I walked into the condo and saw her packing her things. We ended up having a screaming fight instead.” He paused, swallowing hard before continuing. “Turns out she had been planning it for a while. I was just too blind to see.”

Wiping his hands off with some tissues, Pete picked up some gauze pads and laid them over Patrick’s stitches. “Did she say why?”

“Wasn’t home enough.” At Pete’s incredulous look, Patrick explained. “I met her during the hiatus, remember? While I was doing “Soul Punk”. I was touring and doing shows, but not like we had just finished with the band.” The singer shrugged and averted his eyes. “She just…she got tired of being left alone.”

_He’s lying,_ Pete suddenly realized as he picked up the roll of bandaging and began to carefully wrap it around Patrick’s wrist. _Why is he lying to me?_ Out loud, he said, “She didn’t realize what band you were with when you got together, did she?”

“Of course she did. I guess…I don’t know…maybe she thought we’d never get back together.” Patrick’s voice was soft and sad. “We really didn’t have a chance to hash everything out, you know?”

Finishing one wrist, Pete started on the other. “And you haven’t talked to her since?” When Patrick shook his head, he snorted. “Because she’s not taking your calls or you haven’t tried?”

“I haven’t tried.” There was a pause. “She made how she felt plain enough. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s when I’m not wanted.”

  _I want you_ , Pete almost blurted out. _I’ve always wanted you. How could she just throw you away?_ He bit his tongue just in time, concentrating on making the bandaging secure but not too tight as he wished he could do something, anything that would make Patrick’s all too obvious pain go away.

“So the condo?” he asked instead.

“Is being sold,” Patrick answered, his voice turning dull and lifeless. “I signed off on it, told my lawyer to tell her she could have it if she wanted it. She didn’t.” He shook his head, closing his eyes against the sudden onrush of tears. “And I…I can’t live there anymore. Not after this.”

“Of course you couldn’t,” Pete agreed. “I did the same thing after Ashlee left. My old place…it was just way too big of a house for just me and Hemmy.” Finishing up, he secured the gauze bandaging with medical tape and reluctantly let Patrick’s hand go. “There. How do they feel? Too tight?”

Patrick studied them for a long moment. “No. They feel good, actually. They’re not throbbing anymore.” Looking up, he managed a smile. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem.” Bundling up what was left of the medical supplies, Pete put them back in the bag. “I am sorry, Trick. I know you cared about her.”

Patrick let out a heavy sigh. “Not enough, apparently.” Taking off his glasses, he swiped at his eyes. “Could we talk about something else, please?”

“Sure,” Pete readily agreed, hearing how shaky Patrick’s voice was. _Don’t ask_ , he told himself firmly. _Don’t ask why he’s lying. Don’t demand the truth. He’ll tell you when he’s damn good and ready and right now he’s not._ He couldn’t help but wonder if Patrick ever would be.

Pete pushed that thought aside as quickly as it had shown up. “So what are you going to do?” he asked instead. “Go home and stay with your mom for while?”

Patrick immediately shook his head. “No.” His voice was firm, final. “She’s got enough to worry about. She doesn’t need me around on top of everything else.” He paused. “I’ll figure out something.”

_You shouldn’t be alone_ , Pete couldn’t help thinking as he continued to gaze at his best friend. _Not after everything you’ve been through. The last thing you should be is left alone._ “Why don’t you come stay with me for a while?” he blurted out a moment later.

Patrick’s head jerked up, his eyes wide. “What?”

“Come stay with me,” Pete repeated. “Granted, the house I bought is a little smaller than my previous monstrosity was, but there’s still plenty of room for you to camp out for as long as you need to get your feet back under you again.”

_God, what are you doing? Do you even know what you’re doing to me, offering like that?_ Patrick thought, a lump forming in his throat. Pete was just being generous, like he always was. He was just offering because of their long friendship. It didn’t mean any more than that. It couldn’t. “Pete…that’s awfully generous of you…but I said before that I didn’t need a babysitter.”

“How about a friend?” Pete asked softly. Reaching out, he put a hand on Patrick’s knee. “Look, Trick…I just…I don’t think you should be left alone right now after everything, that’s all. I’d feel a hell of a lot better if you weren’t.” He paused. “And you’re gonna need help until your wrists heal. Why not stay with someone who’s willing?” Pete suddenly smiled. “And I know Hemmy would love to see his Uncle Patrick. He misses you playing fetch with him.”

Patrick couldn’t help smiling at that. “I kinda miss that, too,” he said quietly. “He’s a good dog.” There was a long pause. “I wouldn’t be intruding?”

“Of course you wouldn’t. You know how much I hate being by myself. We can even start working on new songs if you want to. The label is going to be on our collective asses for a new album as soon as they think they can get away with it. You know that as well as I do.” A hopeful look appeared on Pete’s face. “Come on, Pattycakes. Put me out of my misery here and say yes.” _Please say yes,_ Pete thought. _Please let me take care of you, let me cherish you…please, Patrick…let me love you. Please._

_You shouldn’t_ , Patrick’s inner voice told him. _You’d be nothing but a burden to him and the longer you’re around him the more of a chance he’ll have of finding out._ He looked at the hand on his knee. _Say no. Say you’ll be fine and you don’t need him. Just tell him no._

Patrick looked up, meeting Pete’s dark eyes with his own. “Okay,” he said softly. “If you’re sure you’re willing to put up with me.”

The biggest grin that Patrick had ever seen spread across Pete’s face right before the bassist pulled him into a hard hug. “More than willing. And it’s not putting up with you. It’s never that with you.” He drew away enough to look at Patrick. “Okay?”

Patrick forced himself to smile and nod even as his heart sank. “Okay.”

                                                                        ****

After saying good-bye to Andy and Joe at the airport – which included more hugs and instructions to call them if anything happened – the two men collected their things from the bus and climbed into Pete’s car for the drive to his house outside of LA. Patrick fell asleep almost immediately, his head sagging against the back of the seat as he softly snored. Whenever it was safe for him to do so, Pete snuck looks at the singer, a warm feeling growing in his chest as he watched Patrick’s chest rise and fall. _So beautiful_ , he thought, reaching out to brush a lock of hair out of his closed eyes. _Patrick…sweetheart…God, I just hope I’m doing the right thing._

Finally turning into his driveway, Pete pulled up to his front door and turned off the engine, giving Patrick a long look before gently shaking his shoulder. “Wake up, Pattycakes,” he said softly. “We’re here.”

Blinking, Patrick smothered a yawn with the back of his hand. “Sorry,” he murmured, pushing his glasses up enough to rub at his eyes.

“No reason to be. I know how tired you are,” Pete said quietly, letting himself put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. He gave it a squeeze before letting go. “Come on in. Let me give you the twenty-five cent tour.”

Patrick smiled. “It used to be fifty cents,” he said as he got out of the car. He reached into the back seat for his duffel.

Pete managed to grab it before Patrick did. “Nope. I’ve got this. And I’ll come back out for the rest.” Getting his own, he slung it over his other shoulder and grinned. “Come on.” He headed up the walkway. “And it’s smaller, so I charge less.”

“This is nice,” Patrick commented as he looked around. “Not as pretentious as that MTV Cribs monstrosity you had.”

“God, wasn’t that a mess and a half? I don’t know what I was thinking when I bought the thing,” Pete said as he unlocked the door and stepped in, Patrick close behind. “The only good thing about it was it sold in about a minute when I put it on the market after Ashlee left.” Dropping his keys on a nearby table, he ushered Patrick in. “This is at least it’s a little more practical for me and Hemmy. You know?”

Patrick was about to agree with him when he heard nails scrabbling on tile. “Incoming.”

Grinning, Pete dropped both bags and went to his knees just as Hemmingway came barreling down the hall and jumped into Pete’s outstretched arms, barking furiously. The bassist laughed as the bulldog enthusiastically licked his face. “I missed you, too, Hemmy. Have you been a good boy? No surprises in my shoes like the last time?”

Patrick’s eyebrows went up. “I’m guessing the surprise wasn’t a bone.”

Pete wrinkled his nose. “Definitely wasn’t. Had to toss the shoes and the socks I was wearing at the time.” He continued to pet the wriggling dog. “Look who I brought home to play with you, Hemmy! It’s your Uncle Patrick!” Hemmingway barked again in response.

Grinning, Patrick knelt down next to Pete and was thoroughly licked as well. “Hey, boy,” he said, laughing as his glasses were knocked askew. “I missed you, too. Yes, I did.” He scratched the bulldog’s ears, grinning as Hemmingway sagged against his leg, tongue sticking out as he panted happily. “You’re such a good dog.”

Pete watched, grinning as well. “That’s a good thing to hear,” he said as he continued to pet his dog.

A confused look appeared on Patrick’s face. “What is?”

“You laughing,” Pete clarified. There was a pause. “You haven’t in a while.”

Patrick ducked his head, a blush creeping across his cheeks. “Haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” he murmured, running his hands over the dog’s short white fur.

_I’ll change that_ , Pete thought, determination rushing through him as he watched Patrick continue to pet his dog. _I promise you, sweetheart…whatever it takes. I’ll get you to smile for real again._

Getting to his feet, Pete picked up both duffel bags. “Come on. I’ll show you around.” Giving the dog a final pat, Patrick got up as well to follow Pete.

His eyes went wide when they passed rooms filled with still packed boxes. “How long ago did you buy the house?” he asked as they headed up the stairs, Hemmingway following them both.

“Moved in three days before we went out on tour,” Pete said as they walked. “Barely had time to unpack my guitars. Every break we had I came home and tackled a little more, but it was never enough time.” He looked over his shoulder, grinning. “There is a guest room done. I made sure of that. Along with the music room, the living room, the kitchen, the media room and about half the library.”

“Why do I have the feeling you’re going to ask me to unpack boxes as payment for letting me stay a while?” Patrick commented as he followed Pete up the stairs.

“Only if you want to,” Pete immediately said. “And only when you’re all better.” He eyed the laptop bag over Patrick’s shoulder. “You’re not supposed to be straining anything, remember?”

“I’m not. It’s slung over my shoulder,” Patrick returned. “And it’s only my laptop. I’m fine.”

Pete let out a sigh. “Sorry,” he apologized. “Still worry, you know?”

“I know. But you don’t need to right now. I’m fine.” Patrick suddenly stifled a yawn. “Tired but fine.”

“Let’s get you settled then. Here.” Pausing in front of a closed door, Pete opened it and waved Patrick inside. “Hope it’s okay.”

Patrick took one look and immediately relaxed. Warm colors, plain but sturdy furniture, a solid wall of windows – it was comfortable in a way that Pete’s old house had never been. “It’s nice.” Dropping his laptop bag onto the bed, he immediately went to the window, his eyes widening as he looked outside. “Beautiful.”

_You are_ , Pete thought, biting his tongue just in time. With the bright sun coming in through the window, Patrick’s hair was the color of a newly minted copper penny, leaving Pete to wonder if it was as soft as it looked. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep himself from touching. “Isn’t it? The view was what sold me on the house.”

“I can see why.” Patrick let out a contented little sigh. “It feels like you’re far away from everything.”

“And I’m still twenty minutes away from the city with pizza delivery and everything,” Pete said, stepping away enough to open the door in the corner. “You’ve got your own bathroom and I’m right across the hall if you need anything. Oh, and close your door at night if you don’t want Hemmy crawling into bed with you.”

Patrick smiled. “I wouldn’t mind,” he said as he sat down on the bed and kicked off his shoes. “God knows I’ve gotten used to you joining me over the years. At least with Hemmy I wouldn’t have to worry about him stealing all the blankets.”

“He snores worse than I do,” Pete pointed out, grinning as he leaned down enough to give the bulldog a pat. “You relax. I’ll go down and get your suitcase and your guitar.” He started to turn away.

“Pete?”

Pete paused at the door. “Yeah?”

The exhaustion was plain on Patrick’s face, but his smile didn’t waver. “Thank you.”

The bassist’s grin turned into a softer smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”

The sight of that sweet smile caused Patrick’s heart to ache. “So am I,” he forced himself to say, trying not to think about how all this could still go very, very wrong.

The moment Pete disappeared, Patrick laid down on the bed, curling up so his back was to the door. _Don’t think about it_ , he told himself as he closed his eyes. _Don’t think about how nice it’s been or how his hand felt touching your shoulder or how much you want him to kiss you. Don’t think about any of it. He’s being a friend. That’s all he is and that’s all he can be._ Taking off his glasses, he curled himself around a pillow and closed his eyes. _Don’t hope for anything more. You’re lucky to have what he’s giving you after everything you’ve put him through._ A tear slid unchecked down his cheek, followed by another.   _Still…God, I wish…._

When Pete looked in several minutes later, Patrick was asleep. Setting his suitcase and guitar case next to his duffel, he moved Patrick’s laptop bag from the bed to the dresser. _Long day and it’s barely noon_ , he mused, glancing at his watch. _And with everything he’s been through the past few days…let him sleep._ Going back over to the dresser, Pete carefully opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a spare blanket. _He’ll need this later. He always gets cold when he sleeps._

Spreading it over Patrick’s sleeping frame, Pete smiled when the redhead immediately pulled it tightly around him. His smile disappeared, however, when he saw Patrick’s wet cheeks. _He’s been crying? I was only gone a few minutes._ He reached out, about to put a hand on his shoulder when he stopped. _No…let him sleep. He needs that more than anything and it just might be the stress of everything making him upset. He’ll be okay once he rests._

Pete smiled fondly as Hemmingway jumped onto the bed and laid down behind Patrick’s drawn up knees. “Gonna keep Patrick company for a while?” he asked softly, petting the bulldog when he responded with panting and wagging his tail. “Good boy.” Giving the singer one last long look, Pete left the room, closing the door half-way behind him.

                                                                        *****

The days passed as both men reacquainted themselves to living out of dresser drawers instead of suitcases. And with each day that went by, Pete’s worry for Patrick grew.

_Still not really eating_ , Pete thought as he watched his friend listlessly poke at what was on his plate. _He hasn’t been that skinny since his “Soul Punk” days._ _And he’s quiet. He’s never been so quiet, not in all the time I’ve known him._ “If you don’t like it I can make something else,” Pete said, even though Patrick had never refused his cooking before. “Or we can order in. I know the Chinese place you like runs specials on Thursdays.”

Looking up, Patrick forced a smile as he stood up. “I’m fine. Just not really hungry.” Going over to the sink, he scraped the remains of dinner down the garbage disposal before rinsing his plate clean.

_I’m really beginning to hate the words “I’m fine”,_ Pete thought to himself, scowling. _Especially since I know they’re not fucking true._ “You hardly ate anything today,” he commented as he did the same, placing the clean plate in the dish drainer. “Or yesterday. You can’t not be hungry.”

The smile disappeared as Patrick’s eyebrows went up. “Can’t I? I should know how I feel a little better than you would.” He stalked out of the kitchen.

_And now he’s trying to pick a fight_ , Pete thought as he watched his friend sag onto the couch. _Do I let him or do I leave him alone?_ He grimaced; he didn’t like either choice. Arguing with Patrick reminded him too much of the days before the band went on hiatus when they had fought constantly over just about everything. It had gotten so bad that they had almost come to blows once or twice; the only thing that had saved the pair of them from hitting each other had been walking away.

And yet he didn’t want to just leave Patrick alone, either. Especially since he was in such obvious pain. _Because if I do, it’s only going to get worse,_ Pete thought. _He’ll withdraw into himself more and more until he gets as bad as he was on tour. And if he gets that bad…he might not come out of it this time._ He swallowed hard at the fear choking him _. I can’t let that happen. Not if I can stop it. And maybe if I get him yelling, he’ll tell me what’s wrong._

Sighing, he washed his hands and dried them off on a dishtowel. _Fight it is, then._ Squaring his shoulders, he went out into the living room.

Patrick was curled up on the sofa, staring blankly out the window at Hemmingway, who was rolling around in the grass right next to the patio. “I think his balls are in the bucket right next to the door,” he said as he sat down next to him. “He’d probably like it if you went out and threw him a couple.”

Patrick didn’t move. “Maybe later.”

Pete let out an exasperated little sigh. “Okay, Pattycakes, we’re done with this shit.” His voice was firm. “Are you going to talk to me and tell me what’s wrong? Or am I going to have to fit another emergency room visit with you into my schedule sometime soon?”

Patrick glared at him. “Nothing’s wrong,” he answered, the tone of his voice hinting at his growing temper. “I told you. I’m fine.”

“You are **not** fine,” Pete corrected harshly. He began ticking points off on his fingers. “You’re barely eating. You either sleep or stare out the window all day. The farthest you’ve gone outside the house is in the backyard to play with Hemmy. You haven’t called anyone since you’ve been here and I know for a fact that you haven’t opened your laptop, because your bag is still in the same place I put it a fucking week ago.” Reaching out, he put a hand on Patrick’s knee. “It’s just…I’ve never seen you this low. Not even before…before.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “It’s scaring the fuck out of me.”

Patrick flushed and turned away, curling up into an even tighter ball on the couch as he moved his leg out from under Pete’s hand. _Don’t touch me. Don’t be so worried about me. Don’t do anything that would make me love you more than I already do_ , he thought, the words repeating over and over in his head. “There’s no reason for you to be,” he finally said, keeping his eyes on Hemmy digging a hole in the grass outside and specifically away from Pete. _Believe me. Just believe me when I say I’m fine and leave it alone,_ he prayed, hoping that this would be one of the times Pete would know somehow what he was thinking before he even thought it. _Please please please…please just leave it alone._

Pete didn’t. “Isn’t there?” he said instead. Putting his hand on Patrick’s arm, he pulled up the sleeve of his long sleeved t-shirt enough so that the bandage around his wrist was visible. “Those bandages are telling me something different.”

Jerking his arm away, Patrick pushed his sleeve back down. “Saving that one up just to throw it in my face?”

“Jesus fuck, Patrick…of course not!” Pete ran a hand through his hair, his frustration quickly rising with his temper. If he wasn’t careful, he’d say something he didn’t mean all too quickly. _And that would really drive him away_ , he thought, forcing himself to concentrate on what he was saying and not blurt out the first thing that popped into his head.

Finally, he said, “You’re my best friend. I’m worried about you, for fuck’s sake.” He put his hand back on Patrick’s arm. “Look, I know what Elisa did tore you up. I know that, how that feels. I practically turned into a zombie when Ash walked out. And you were in love with her, were gonna marry her. I get that.” He swallowed hard. “But you know what else I get? That you’re not telling me everything.”

Patrick forced himself to keep his rapidly growing panic from showing on his face. “What else is there to tell?” he managed to get out, his voice shaking just a little. He prayed desperately that Pete wouldn’t notice. “We had a fight and she left. End of story.”

“I don’t think so,” Pete insisted stubbornly. “There’s something else. Something you think is so terrible that it would change things between us if I knew. Am I right?” Taking Patrick’s silence for agreement, Pete continued on. “It wouldn’t. I’m telling you right now that it wouldn’t. Nothing could.” Pete moved just a little closer, his own hand sliding down Patrick’s arm until their fingers brushed together. “I love you, Trick. Nothing is ever going to change that.”

Patrick closed his eyes against the tears that were threatening to overwhelm him. _This would. I know this would. God…please…I wish you meant it the way I want you to and not the way I know you do._ He moved his hand away from Pete’s again; his friend’s innocent touches were becoming an all too real reminder of what he knew he could never have.

Of course, Pete noticed that as well. “Patrick? You keep moving away whenever I touch you.” A hurt note crept into his voice. “Is it me, then? Did I…did I do something?”

Cursing at himself under his breath, Patrick immediately shook his head. “It’s not you,” he said, making his voice as firm as he could. Pete’s self-esteem issues rivaled his own on a good day; on bad ones, they were worse than Patrick’s had ever been and had drove the bassist to hurt himself more than once. “I swear to you, Pete. You didn’t do anything.” _Except be you and I can’t blame you for that_ , he thought. _Not when that was why I fell in love with you._

“Then why won’t you look at me?” Pete asked, his voice soft. “Why won’t you talk to me? We tell each other everything. Fuck, Patrick…you know shit about me that I hope to God my family never finds out.” There was another pause. “Whatever it is, I swear by everything holy that you can tell me. I want to help.” Pete reached out again, his hand hovering. “Please…please let me help you.”

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Patrick forced himself to get up and move away from Pete, shaking his head the entire time. “No,” he said, choking on the word as he moved closer to the window, his arms wrapped around himself. “No. You can’t…you wouldn’t want to help with this.”

“How do you know?” Pete asked as he got up as well. “I can fucking well try if it’s for you.” An awful thought suddenly wormed its way into Pete’s head. “Are you sick? Is that it?”

Patrick turned just enough to look at him, suddenly very confused. “What?”

“Are you sick?” Pete repeated, his dark eyes wide with concern. “Did your doctor tell you something awful when you went home the last time?”

The faintest ghost of a smile appeared on Patrick’s face. Trust Pete to take that idea into his head so fast and for that to be the worst thing he could think of. “I’m not sick,” he said softly. _At least, not in the way you’re thinking,_ he thought, his disgust rising in his throat. He forced himself to swallow it down. “I swear. I didn’t even see my doctor last time I went to Chicago. And even if I had and he had found something serious, I would tell you.”

Pete couldn’t help the sigh of pure relief that escaped him. “Okay, so you’re not sick.” Moving in front of him, Pete put a hand on the singer’s shoulder, his frown deepening when he felt Patrick’s collarbone. _Too thin…way too thin,_ he couldn’t help thinking. _He’s never been this thin, not in all the time I’ve known him._ “But you’re gonna be if you keep this not eating shit up. You know that, right?”

Patrick immediately became defensive again. “I eat,” he muttered.

“Not that I’ve seen in the past week,” Pete countered. “Or the past couple months. Not since you came back from that last break.” A murderous look suddenly appeared on Pete’s face. “What did that fucking bitch say to you?”

Shaking his head, Patrick moved away from Pete’s hand. Any more touching, and he’d end up throwing himself into Pete’s arms and not letting go. _And I can’t. I can’t. He’s not mine. Not in that way. He can’t ever be mine that way._ “Nothing. She didn’t say anything.”

“You’re lying again. You don’t look at me when you’re lie, did you know that? That’s how I can always tell.” Pete moved in front of him, stopping Patrick in his tracks. “Whatever she told you, whatever names she called you – they’re all fucking lies.” Reaching out, he tilted Patrick’s face around until their eyes met. “She didn’t deserve you.”

Feeling his heart clench, Patrick forced himself to look away. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he murmured. “You don’t. I hurt her.”

Pete shook his head even more emphatically. “Now I know that’s a crock. You couldn’t. I know you couldn’t.” There was a pause. “You’ve got a good heart, Patrick. You always have.” _God, please believe me. Believe me and not whatever she told you. Please…Patrick…sweetheart…you have to believe me._

Patrick bit his lip, stifling the sob that threatened to come out. _God help me, he still thinks that way about me,_ he thought. _Would you still think that way if you knew?_ He wrapped his arms around himself, knowing the answer.

Dark eyes wide, Pete immediately put an arm around Patrick’s shoulder and steered him back over to the couch. “Sit. Before you fall into something.” He pushed Patrick down before sitting back down next to him. He took one look at Patrick’s too pale, too thin face and immediately pulled him into his arms. “It’s all right,” he murmured, smoothing the singer’s disheveled red hair back into place. “Shh, now. It’s gonna be okay.” Patrick was still hugging himself, his face pressed awkwardly against Pete’s neck thanks to his glasses and shaking so hard that Pete was afraid he’d fall apart right then and there. _Anxiety attack_ , the bassist belatedly realized, remembering his own spectacular ones over the years. It was obvious that whatever he was taking wasn’t working considering how violently he was trembling and the sobbing catches of breath that escaped him from time to time. _A bad reaction maybe? He’s been on the stuff for about a week now, though…wouldn’t we have seen something by now? Unless whatever else he’s on hides things._ Tightening his hold on the man in his arms, Pete kept mumbling words of comfort, doing anything he could to try and calm Patrick down.

Finally, the shuddering stopped and Patrick’s breathing evened out, becoming quiet. “Back with me?” Pete asked softly, his hands rubbing circles into Patrick’s shoulder blades.

“Yeah. Think so,” Patrick murmured, sniffling. “Sorry. I just…I don’t know what happened.”

“Anxiety attack,” Pete explained as he continued to rub. “I used to get some pretty spectacular ones before I got my meds under control.” Pete brushed a kiss against Patrick’s hairline. “And nothing to be sorry for, either.”

Patrick froze the moment he felt Pete’s lips against his temple, his breath catching in his throat. _No_ , he thought, his panic returning as that one word echoed in his head. _No no no no don’t…please…_ “Please don’t,” he managed to get out as he rose from the couch and headed back toward the window, getting as far away from Pete as he possibly could. “Just…don’t. You don’t have to.” He turned away, hiding the tears that had suddenly sprung into his eyes. “I’m fine. You don’t…I mean…I’m fine.”

It was those two little words that did it, the blatant lie said yet again when Patrick so clearly wasn’t set off Pete’s temper like nothing ever had. “You’re not fine!” he yelled, standing up as well. Stalking over to Patrick, he took the other man’s shoulders and shook him hard. “This is not fucking fine! Stop lying to me, damn it!”

Patrick knocked Pete’s hands away, his own temper up. “What the fuck do you want to hear?” he yelled back, glaring at the other man and wishing right then that he was anywhere else than where he was.

“The truth,” Pete bit out, matching Patrick’s glare with one of his own. “That’s what I want. The fucking truth for once, because you’ve been lying to me ever since you first woke up that night in the hospital!” He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down a little. “Patrick…for God sakes, whatever it is…it can’t be as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

“Can’t it?” Patrick countered, a hysterical little giggle escaping him. He shook his head, the tears he had been fighting for so long finally escaping. “It can. It’s even worse. You don’t want to know how worse…”

“Yes, I do,” Pete said, coming to stand in front of the singer again. “I want to know. I want you to tell me every little bit of it, because God knows I want to help but I can’t if I don’t know what the fuck is going on!”

Patrick kept shaking his head in denial. “No…you don’t want to know this. You can’t…you wouldn’t…”

“What I want is for you to talk to me!”

“No, you **don’t**!” Patrick yelled back, suddenly too exhausted and too heartsick to watch what he was saying. “You don’t want that! You don’t want…” He clamped his mouth shut on the last word, but it’s already too late. By the look of stunned shock on Pete’s face, he knew he had said too much.

Patrick turned away, mentally berating himself for his slip of the tongue and not wanting to see the disgust, the hurt, the revulsion that he knew would be on Pete’s face. Stupid. How could he be so stupid, letting Pete talk him into coming here in the first place? To be around his best friend all the time and not expect his secret to come out eventually? How could he be such an idiot?

_Any minute now. He’ll start yelling again, calling me sick and twisted, telling me he doesn’t think of me like that, that he never did and then he’ll toss me out on my ass. Or he’ll be kind. It’ll be kindness and pity and how sorry he is but he doesn’t want me like that and it would be better for both of us if I just left._ Patrick closed his eyes, steeling himself against the harsh words that he knew were about to come. _Any minute now._

But the minutes passed and Pete didn’t say a word.

When the silence continued, Patrick turned to face him, momentarily stunned by the shocked look still on Pete’s face. “Say something,” he said, unable to take the silence any longer.

Shock turned to confusion. “Like what?”

“Anything!” Suddenly exhausted, Patrick sagged into a nearby chair, cupping his aching head in his hands. “Scream at me. Tell me I’m a fucking idiot for feeling like this. Anything. Just…just say something and get it over with.”

Pete stared at him, the meaning of what Patrick was saying sinking in. _He thinks I’m going to kick him out on his ass_ , he realized. _But why? Why would he think that? Doesn’t he know? Christ knows I’ve told him enough times in enough ways over the years. How could he ever think that I don’t love him…want him…after everything?_ “How do you know?” he finally asked out loud.

Patrick lifted his head up and Pete’s heart twisted hard in his chest when he saw fresh tears streaking his cheeks. “What?”

“How do you know what I want?” Pete asked again as he moved to stand in front of Patrick’s chair. “Did you ask me?” Without waiting for an answer, Pete knelt down in front of him and carefully put his hands over Patrick’s. Taking a deep breath, he threw caution to the winds and let the secret he had been keeping for so long come out. “Maybe…maybe I’ve wanted something like this for a long time.”

To Pete’s surprise, Patrick shook his head and tried to pull his hands away. “Don’t do this,” he pleaded, a sob catching in his throat. “Please, Pete…please don’t fuck with me like this.”

“I’m not,” Pete denied immediately. “I swear to God I’m not.” He tightened his hold on Patrick’s fingers. “I thought you knew.” At Patrick’s blank stare, Pete went on. “I love you. I always have.”

Sniffling, Patrick slid a hand under his glasses to swipe at his eyes. “I know you do,” he said, his voice sounding small and sad. “You tell me all the time.” He sighed. “You tell everyone all the time.”

Pete frowned, about to ask what the problem was when he suddenly realized. “No, not like that,” he said, giving Patrick’s fingers a squeeze for emphasis. “Not how I always say it.” Leaning up, he cupped Patrick’s cheek with one hand, angling the singer’s head up enough for their eyes to meet. “I mean I **love** you.” With that, he drew Patrick into a kiss.

It wasn’t perfect; their noses bumped together and Pete could feel the Patrick’s glasses pressing hard against his cheek. In spite of that he found himself sinking into the kiss, losing himself in the feel of soft lips pressed against his, his heart pounding hard in his chest as he reached up. He wanted so badly to pull Patrick deeper into the kiss, into his arms, into his heart…

Suddenly he was shoved away so hard that he ended up flat on his back on the floor with Patrick standing over him. “I don’t want your fucking pity,” he spat out, angrier than Pete had ever seen him before.

“It’s **not** fucking pity!” Pete yelled back as he scrambled to his feet. “You know God damn well it’s not. I’ve been in love with you for fucking years.”

Patrick stared at him, eyes wide. “You…what?” He shook his head. “No.”

“No?” Pete repeated, his own eyes going wide. “Why no? Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because…because you’re…you’re you,” Patrick stammered. “What about Jeanae? And Ashlee? For fucks sake, I was best man at your wedding!”

Pete grimaced. “And that turned out really well,” he returned. “Why do you think she left? Not only was I fucked up seventeen different ways, she knew how I felt about you, how deep it went.” He paused, swallowing hard. “She tried, but finally she couldn’t deal with it any longer. So she left.”

_Like Elisa_ , Patrick thought, his heart skipping a beat. _Just like Elisa. Oh, God…_ “You didn’t tell me,” he whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because ten minutes after we met up again you mentioned Elisa,” Pete said, slowly coming closer. “And you looked so happy, so in love…I knew you’d never look at me like that. Not after everything I did.” Pete wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly looking lost. “Out of everyone, I hurt you the longest and the worst.”

“We hurt each other,” Patrick said softly. “We both needed the time away. We would’ve strangled each other if we hadn’t.” He closed his eyes. “I missed you, though. I missed you so much. Every day.”

“I missed you, too. More than anything,” Pete confessed. “And when I finally got you back, I didn’t want to do anything that would fuck things up.” There was a pause. “Mentioning to you how I felt would’ve.”

Patrick opened his eyes, seeing the honest, naked longing on the other man’s face. “God, Pete…all this time…I thought you were just playing up to the fans,” he said. “I didn’t think…you were always doing something crazy…screwing around…”

“Sometimes it was,” Pete admitted softly. “But most of the time it wasn’t. And I swear to God I’m not screwing around now.” He moved even closer, stopping directly in front of the redhead. “Patrick…please…tell me what you want?”

Patrick continued to stare at Pete, who was now standing in front of him almost nose to nose. “What I want?” he repeated, not sure he could believe what he was hearing.

Pete nodded. “You know what I want, how I feel,” he said softly. Reaching out, he brushed a finger along Patrick’s cheek, his heart lifting a little when the singer leaned into the touch. “But if you don’t…if you don’t want this, if you don’t want me…I’ll stop.” He continued on, every word he said like a knife to his heart. “I’ll stop the best way I can and we’ll just be like we’ve always been – band mates and writing partners and best friends and that’s it. I’ll never mention anything else ever again.” Pete paused, letting his hand fall as he waited for Patrick to make the next move. “Just look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me, don’t want this.”

Patrick was silent for a long moment, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I can’t,” he finally breathed, his voice shaking. “I can’t. I don’t want to. I love you. Pete…please…” He didn’t get to finish; Pete’s lips crashed against his as the bassist pushed him against the wall and kissed the breath out of him. Wrapping his arms around Pete’s neck, Patrick returned the kiss with everything he had.

_Perfect. So perfect_ , Pete thought over and over as he lightly traced over Patrick’s bottom lip with his tongue, delighting in the gasp that escaped the singer as he deepened the kiss. He tightened his arms around Patrick’s shaking frame, holding him steady as he slid a hand up the singer’s back _. I’ve got you, baby…never letting you go…not ever. Love you…love you so much…_

Patrick’s own hands dug into Pete’s shoulder blades, pulling his body even closer. A muffled groan escaped him when he felt the bassist’s erection rub against his. _Don’t let go_ , he thought, relishing the feel of those hands sliding up his back. _So good…love you so much…just don’t let me go._

Pete began trailing kisses along Patrick’s neck and up toward his ear. “Patrick? Let me take you upstairs?” he asked as he nuzzled Patrick’s hair, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Want to love on you, baby. Let me? Please?”

Shivering, Patrick nodded, gasping when he felt Pete’s tongue delicately trace along his earlobe. “Upstairs,” he managed to get out, pulling away enough to slowly begin making his way toward the stairs. “And a bed. Our first time together is not going to be sprawled out on the living room floor.”

“How about our second time?” Pete teased in between kisses. “Or our third? Or maybe our forty-seventh?” Taking Patrick’s hand, he gently tugged him back into his arms. “I’m just saying I’ve got a pretty sweet fireplace in the living room with a nice fluffy rug in front of it and everything. I’d love to spread you out in front of it one day.”

Patrick’s cheeks turned bright red. “One day,” he promised, sealing it with a kiss. “Not now.”

“Well of course not now,” Pete agreed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s something I have to plan out. And I’ll be honest with you, Pattycakes, I’m not capable of planning anything beyond getting you up those stairs right now.”

“One foot in front of the other,” Patrick said with a smile as they headed up. “And try not to trip.”

Once they were in Pete’s bedroom and the door was safely closed behind them, Patrick pulled the bassist back into his arms, about to start kissing him again when Pete stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Wait. There’s something I need to do first.” Grinning, he reached up and slowly slid Patrick’s glasses off his nose. “There. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Patrick couldn’t help giggling. “You’re ridiculous,” he said as he took them from Pete and put them on the nightstand.

“So I guess it’s a good thing you like ridiculous, huh?” Pete asked as he drew Patrick back into his arms.

Patrick smiled as he wrapped his own arms around Pete’s waist. “I love ridiculous,” he said softly before being drawn into another kiss.

They sat down on the edge of the bed, trading kisses back and forth as their hands wandered. Patrick tugged on the hem of Pete’s t-shirt before sliding a hand under it. “Can you…would you…” he asked.

“Definitely,” Pete said, smiling as he let go of Patrick long enough to take off his t-shirt and toss it to the floor. Sliding his hands down Patrick’s arms, he moved to the front of his shirt, fingering the hem. “Your turn?”

To Pete’s surprise, Patrick put his hands over his, panic flashing in his eyes. “No…don’t,” He stammered, ducking his head. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Pete murmured as he brushed a kiss against Patrick’s temple. “It’s okay. You want to stop?” When Patrick shook his head Pete gave him another kiss. “Then tell me what’s wrong?”

Patrick was silent for a long moment before his head fell onto Pete’s bare shoulder and a heavy sigh escaped him. “It’s just…I mean…I’m not like you.”

“And thank fuck for that,” Pete said, grinning as he squeezed his shoulder with his free hand. “Trust me, babe, the absolute last thing this world needs is another me.”

A wan smile crossed Patrick’s face even as he shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

Pete’s grin changed to a tender smile. “I know what you meant,” he said softly. Angling Patrick’s chin up, Pete gave him another lingering kiss. “And I think you’re fucking gorgeous.”

Patrick’s cheeks turned bright red again. “Are you sure you don’t need to borrow my glasses?” he asked, half joking.

Pete shook his head, giving the singer another kiss for emphasis. “My eyesight is perfect and so are you.” At the dubious look on Patrick’s face, Pete continued. “Patrick…baby…you’re beautiful. I always thought you were.” He began brushing kisses along his cheek and down his neck, nuzzling his ear for emphasis. “Let me show you?”

Shivering, Patrick finally nodded and let his hand fall away from Pete’s. Pete slowly slid the shirt upward and over his head, finally tossing it over his shoulder to land somewhere near his. “God, look at you,” he breathed, his voice full of wonder as he slowly slid his hands up Patrick’s bare arms. “You’re so….” He didn’t finish, giving Patrick yet another lingering kiss instead.

Without breaking the kiss, they laid down on the bed facing each other. “It’s okay,” Pete murmured in between kisses as Patrick’s hands hovered over his chest. “You can touch wherever you want. You can’t do anything wrong.” He sighed as Patrick’s fingertips began tracing the necklace of thorns tattoo. “That’s it, sweetheart. God, I love your hands.”

“This is okay?” Patrick found himself asking, his fingertips tingling as he traced the dark lines decorating Pete’s skin. “You’re sure?”

“Definitely better than okay,” Pete corrected, stealing another kiss. Hearing the note of doubt in Patrick’s voice however, brought up questions. “Haven’t you ever…you know…with another guy?”

Patrick shook his head, focusing on the tattoo he was caressing. “Never wanted to before you,” he confessed, looking up. He reached up to brush his fingers over Pete’s cheek, blushing when Pete turned his head enough to kiss his fingertips. “Have you…” He stopped, biting his lips shut as he mentally kicked himself. _Stupid. Of course he has, you idiot. You’ve seen him._ Memories flooded through his mind – memories from their van days of pretty, skinny Goth girls and fey boys wearing too much eyeliner clamoring for Pete’s attention. Memories of Pete disappearing right after a show and not showing up again until noon the next day with bite marks on his neck and a grin on his face. “Sorry. I shouldn’t…it’s none of my business,” he apologized.

To his surprise, Pete shook his head. “No, it’s okay. You can ask me anything. And you should know.” He paused, considering his words carefully. “One steady boyfriend in high school for a little over a year and a half. We broke up after graduation.” At Patrick’s puzzled frown he explained. “He was accepted to Berkley and I was staying in Chicago. Both of us decided that a long distance relationship wasn’t going to work in the long run, so we parted friends. He’s still out there last I heard…married his college roommate and everything.” He paused. “In college I was dating both, but nothing really serious. Between school and music, I didn’t have a lot of time for anything else. And when we started touring with the band, I didn’t have time for even that. It was a lot of one night stands with quickie hand jobs or blow jobs.” He paused. “And you know the rest.”

Patrick nodded, remembering Jeanae and Ashlee and Mikey among others. “There hasn’t been…I mean…I haven’t…” His cheeks turned bright red and he couldn’t finish.

“I know,” Pete said softly, brushing a finger along Patrick’s cheek. “Just…you should know…whatever I did? I always played safe.” The tone of his voice was serious. “And I promise you, I’m clean. I get tested every six months no matter what. Although lately with the tour and all, it’s just been me and my right hand.” He wiggled his fingers in front of Patrick’s nose for emphasis.

Patrick couldn’t help smiling at that. “Me, too. And honestly? Not much of that.”

“Enough,” Pete said, suddenly grinning. “My bunk was under yours on the bus, remember? I used to hear you.”

Patrick buried his face in Pete’s shoulder. “No, you didn’t,” he denied. “I was quiet. Or I tried to be.”

“You weren’t quiet enough. Trust me on that one,” Pete teased. “I loved listening to you and it was pure torture at the same time. All I wanted to do was crawl into your bunk and help you out.”

A mental image of Pete climbing into the bus’ bunk and wrapping a hand around his cock sprang to mind and Patrick was suddenly achingly hard. “Oh, God,” he muttered, his cheeks burning. “A part of me is surprised you never did, to be honest.”

“Wasn’t sure I’d be welcomed and I didn’t want to just barge in and put my hands on your dick without talking to you first.” Pete nuzzled Patrick’s bright hair. “It used to drive me crazy, though. You let out this shaky little breath right before you come. It undid me every fucking time.” He kissed the singer’s cheek. “I can’t wait to bring it out of you.”

“God, I want you to,” Patrick found himself confessing. “I’d think about you whenever I did it. Dream about what you’d do to me, what you’d let me do to you.”

Pete let out a needy little moan and put a hand on his own crotch, adjusting himself in his tight pants. “Fuck,” he muttered before nipping at Patrick’s earlobe, drawing a gasp out of the other man in response. “Anything. You know that right? I’d let you do anything pretty much.”

“I would, too. Anything you wanted, ” Patrick answered. There was a pause. “I trust you.”

Cupping Patrick’s face in his hands, Pete drew him into another kiss. “God, you are fucking amazing,” he murmured. “I love you so much.” He began scattering kisses along Patrick’s cheeks, over his chin, on the tip of his nose. “Tell me…I want this right for you. Tell me how.”

“Idiot,” Patrick pronounced in between kisses. “It already is, just like this.” He tightened his hold on Pete, fingers digging into the tattoos on his arms. “Just…just don’t let go.”

“Never,” Pete promised. “I’ve got you now. You just hang on and I’ll take care of everything.” He suddenly paused. “You okay with that?”

Patrick frowned a little, suddenly confused. “With what? You doing things? I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“Not just that. With all of it.” Seeing the look on Patrick’s face, he continued. “You know. Been there, done that, souvenir t-shirt is in the laundry.”

A fond smile appeared on Patrick’s face. “Honestly? I’m kinda glad one of us knows what he’s doing.”

Concern turned to surprise. “I wouldn’t go **that** far.” They both started laughing.

When the laughter finally died down, Pete brushed his fingers through Patrick’s hair. “We’ll go slow, okay? As slow as you want. And if I do something you don’t like or you want to stop for any reason, say so and I will. Okay?”

Patrick nodded, mirroring Pete’s gesture with his own. “You, too.”

Pete nodded. “Babe, there’s a pretty good chance you couldn’t do anything I wouldn’t like, but okay.”

Patrick suddenly looked doubtful. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, remember?” he said, his voice soft. “And this…it should be right for you, too.”

“Like you said, it already is.” Pete punctuated his words with another kiss. “Just having you here…holding you like this, being able to kiss you…it’s more than I ever hoped for. More than I ever dreamed of.” His voice softened. “I never thought I’d get a chance to love you like this.”

“Neither did I.” Patrick’s voice was soft as well. “I thought…I honestly thought you’d hate me if you ever found out.” He suddenly buried his face in Pete’s shoulder. “Couldn’t stand it if you hated me again after everything.”

“I wouldn’t. And I never did. Not really,” Pete whispered, closing his eyes as he rested his cheek on Patrick’s red hair. They had never really talked about this; the burnout, the rage on both sides, the drama between the two of them that had brought on the hiatus in the first place. “Everything was so fucked up back then. Between “Folie” and the constant touring, my marriage and your break-up with Anna. Not to mention my unmedicated, fucked up head.” He paused for a long moment before sighing. “But I never hated you. Love you too much to hate you.”

Reaching out, Patrick found one of Pete’s hands and twined their fingers together. “I love you, too.”

They held each other like that for several long moments until they both realized that they were not only lying in each other’s arms half naked, but they were both still fairly aroused. “So…enough emotional shit for the time being?” Patrick asked as he drew away enough to look at Pete, smiling a little. “Weren’t you going to show me a good time?”

“Was planning to,” Pete said with a smile of his own. “If you still want? I can just hold you.”

Patrick shook his head. “Want more than that.” He pressed himself against Pete and both men gasped as their still clothed erections rubbed together. “And so do you. I can feel.”

“God, more than anything.” Tightening his hold on Patrick, Pete gently pushed until the singer was flat on his back. “Okay like this?”

“Yes.” Patrick sighed as Pete began trailing kisses down his neck and along his collarbone. “Oh…yes…Pete…”

“Just relax,” Pete murmured in between kisses. “Always wanted to do this…kiss you all over…show you how fucking perfect you are…”

Patrick flushed. “Not,” he gasped as Pete moved down his chest, moaning as the other man left kisses, licks and little nipping bites in his wake. “Not perfect by a long shot.”

“I think you are.” Pete’s hands paused at the waistband of Patrick’s jeans. “Can I take these off you?”

Patrick put a hand over Pete’s. “Only if yours go, too,” he said. “I’m not going to be the only one naked here.” His other hand began fumbling for Pete’s zipper. “And I want to see you.”

Squeezing his fingers, Pete drew away long enough to strip off the rest of his clothes. “You’ve seen me naked,” he teased as he lay back down.

Patrick shook his head, his eyes drifting down to Pete’s erection. “Not like this.” For emphasis, he pulled the bassist into yet another kiss.

Undoing Patrick’s jeans, Pete slowly pushed them off of his hips and down his legs, leaning down enough to brush a kiss right above the singer’s belly button. “So beautiful,” he breathed, running a finger over Patrick’s trapped erection, grinning when he gasped and it strained the fabric of his underwear even further. “These, too?” He waited for Patrick’s jerky nod before pulling them off with one smooth yank. “God, look at you,” he breathed, his hand hovering at the edge of Patrick’s copper colored curls.

Patrick let out a self-conscious little chuckle in response. “Rather look at you.” He began pulling at the sheet trapped under him, wanting to cover up the flaws he knew were there.

Pete gently took his hands and moved them away, being careful of the bandages still encircling the singer’s wrists. “Hey, none of that. I want to see you, too.”

“Nothing…nothing good to see,” Patrick closed his eyes; he could just imagine the disgust on Pete’s face when the bassist actually got a good look at him. “Gained some of the weight back…stretch marks…too pale…”

“Hey.” Feeling a kiss on his nose, Patrick opened his eyes to see Pete frowning down at him. “Don’t talk like that, okay?” Pete softened the rebuke with another kiss. “You’re beautiful to me. I know you don’t think you are, but I do.” Their eyes met. “Can I go back to showing you?”

Patrick nodded. “Anything, remember?”

“Just making sure.” Pete went back to kissing Patrick’s chest, drawing little whimpering sounds out of him when he licked the singer’s nipples erect. “Like that?”

“God, yes,” Patrick breathed, one hand digging into the sheets while the other tangled in Pete’s hair. He moved it away almost immediately when he realized what he was doing. “Sorry.”

“Shh.” Taking his hand, Pete kissed his fingertips before putting it back on his head. “It’s okay. You can pull. I kinda like it.” He slid his hands lower, finally resting them on Patrick’s hips. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Still okay.” A shudder ran through Patrick when he finally realized just where Pete was going and what he was probably going to do when he got there. “Pete…you don’t…if you don’t want…I mean…you don’t have to,” he stammered, looking down.

Pete looked up and grinned. “I know I don’t. I want to.” With that, he slowly slid his mouth over the head of Patrick’s cock.

Throwing his head back against the pillows, Patrick let out a low, throaty groan as he was surrounded by wet, velvet heat. “God, I can’t believe you’re doing this,” he gasped, lifting his head up enough to watch as Pete slowly swallowed him down. “God…Oh, God…that’s good. So good.” A cry escaped his as Pete’s tongue caressed the tip, licking away the fluid leaking out. “Fuck…Pete, please…God…please…”

_That’s it, baby_ , Pete thought as he sucked, Patrick’s moans and sighs fueling his own arousal. He slid his mouth back down, letting Patrick’s cock nudge the back of his throat before backing off. _That’s it. I’ve got you. Let it go for me._ He let out a muffled moan of his own as the singer’s fingers tightened in his hair. _Little more, baby. Let me taste you._

He felt a sharp tug on his hair a moment later. “Pete…I’m gonna…” Patrick warned, his voice shaking. “I can’t…”

_Don’t,_ Pete thought, glancing up at Patrick’s flushed face. _Don’t hold it back. Give me everything._ He sucked harder, putting everything he had into drawing out Patrick’s orgasm. _I want it all._

He was rewarded a moment later when Patrick let out a keening little wail and came down his throat. Moaning as well, Pete held his hips still and drank him down, reveling in the salty sweet taste. _Mine_ , he thought, joy bubbling in his heart like fine champagne. _After all this time and all we’ve been through, finally all mine._

When Patrick was finally still, Pete slid his mouth off of his cock and gave the head a kiss before sliding up to take the singer back into his arms. “I got you, baby,” he murmured as Patrick buried his face in Pete’s shoulder. “You okay? Pattycakes?”

After a moment, Patrick nodded and swiped at his eyes. “Yeah.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “Yeah. It’s just…” He didn’t finish.

Pete understood. “Been a while?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, but not just how you mean.” Patrick looked up. “Elisa…she never liked doing that.” He paused, his eyes wide. “I still can’t believe you did it.”

Pushing away his anger at Elisa through sheer force of will, Pete rested his cheek against Patrick’s red hair. “Always wanted to,” he confessed softly. “Dreamed of it. Wondered how you would feel, how you would taste.” He looked down at Patrick, grinning. “You’re delicious.”

Patrick’s cheeks turned bright red. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, smiling as well as he drew away enough to look up. “And that was wonderful. Thank you.” He glanced down at Pete’s erection, which was pressed against his thigh. “You didn’t?”

Pete shook his head. “I didn’t,” he said, brushing a kiss along Patrick’s cheek. “That was for you.”

Patrick considered that for a moment. “Then…can I do something for you?” He looked down again. “I don’t know if I can give as good as I got, but I can try.”

Pete shook his head, putting a hand over Patrick’s. “Maybe another time? I know you’d be fantastic with that mouth of yours, but I’m a little too close.” He brushed his lips against Patrick’s in a light, teasing kiss. “Something like that, especially if you’re doing it? It deserves to be savored.” He suddenly chuckled, nuzzling Patrick’s ear. “You’re cute when your ears get all red.”

“Still being ridiculous,” Patrick huffed, his hand wandering down Pete’s stomach. He traced the bat heart tattoo with his fingertips. “If you don’t want that right now, then tell me what you do want?”

Pete sighed, arching into the touch. “Just…your hands,” he finally said. “Use your hands. Jerk me off.”

Moving closer, Patrick wrapped a hand around Pete’s cock and began to pump. “Like this?”

Pete let out a low moan as his eyes fluttered shut. “That’s it,” he breathed. “Just like that. God, I love your hands.” He stole another kiss. “Can’t wait to feel those hands other places.”

“Yours, too. All over.” Patrick gave him another lingering kiss. “Tell me what you’d do. What you want me to do.”

“Fuck, now you want story time?” Pete tried to gather his rapidly scattering thoughts. “Okay…um…definitely go down on you again. Maybe get things a little messy with some whipped cream and chocolate sauce.” He groaned. “How…how does that sound so far?”

“Good. Except for the chocolate part,” Patrick said, teasing him with another kiss.

“Oh…right. I forgot you’re not a big chocolate fan. Honey, then. Make you taste even sweeter.” Pete’s breath quickened as he went on. “I’d let you fuck me. Would you do that?”

Patrick’s eyes went wide and his own cock twitched. “You’d let me?” he repeated. “You want that?”

“From you? Definitely.” A moment later, Pete gasped and buried his face in Patrick’s shoulder, coming all over the singer’s milking fingers. “God…sweetheart…”

“Yeah,” Patrick murmured, nuzzling a kiss along Pete’s jawline. “Definitely.”

They held each other for a long moment before Pete drew away long enough to take Patrick’s hand in his and lick his come slick fingers clean. “Jesus, Pete,” Patrick muttered as he watched, his cock twitching again. “You keep doing that…”

“And you’ll be ready to go again?” Pete asked, chuckling. “That’s the general idea.”

Patrick rested his head on Pete’s shoulder. “I don’t think I can manage,” he replied softly. “The spirit is more than willing…”

“I know the rest.” Pete’s voice softened. “And I’m tired, too.” Reaching down, he pulled the comforter over them both before wrapping his arms around Patrick. “Okay?”

“Better than okay,” Patrick murmured as he did the same. “Just warning you, though…I might wake up and start flailing around like an octopus.”

Pete began sliding his hand up and down Patrick’s bare back. “Still having bad dreams?”

Wincing, Patrick nodded. “Yeah.”

Pete kissed his forehead, tightening his hold. “I’ll keep them away,” he promised softly. “Get some rest, baby.”

Patrick closed his eyes, the gentle back and forth of Pete’s hand lulling his even further. “Love you,” he slurred before dropping off, the last thing he heard being Pete’s voice telling him the same.

                                                                        ****

The next morning, Patrick awoke to a warm body pressed up against his back and someone softly snoring in his ear. _Pete,_ he remembered, suddenly smiling. He was in Pete’s arms, in Pete’s bed and he had never felt safer or more cherished.

_He loves me,_ he thought, still a little stunned by it all. _He’s loved me for years and I never knew. He was as afraid to tell me as I was._ That was a little hard to believe with how well they knew each other; Patrick had a difficult time imagining Pete afraid of anything.

Briefly he debated kissing him awake, but Patrick abandoned that idea just as quickly. _He still doesn’t sleep as much as he should. Let him be._ He brushed a light kiss along Pete’s stubbled cheek. _Plenty of time to play later._

Carefully sliding out of bed, Patrick picked up his scattered clothes and headed for the guest room. _Shower, clean clothes, then go down and make coffee_ , he mused as he dumped his clothes on the neatly made bed. Glancing at his wrists, he began unwinding the bandages. _And the stitches need to come out today, I think. The doctor said a week. I’ll ask Pete if he can take me to a clinic downtown or something._ With that in mind, he headed into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, he was heading downstairs dressed in black jeans and his favorite blue shirt, rolling up the sleeves as he went. Hemmingway came running out of the kitchen to meet him at the bottom. “Hungry, Hemmy?” he asked as he leaned down to give the dog a pat. “Come on. I’ll feed you.”

After turning on the coffee maker, Patrick poured kibble into Hemmingway’s bowl. “Good dog,” he murmured, giving the bulldog another pat as he began to eat. Reaching up, he pulled two mugs out of the overhead cabinet, waiting for the pot to beep.

He had just poured out two mugs and put the pot back on its burner when a pair of arms slowly slid around his waist. “Thank God you made coffee,” Pete murmured as he pressed himself against Patrick’s back.

Patrick smiled as he put a hand over Pete’s. “Did I wake you? I was trying not to,” he said as he picked up a mug.

Pete shook his head as he took it out of Patrick’s hand and swallowed half of the contents in one gulp. “Rolled over and you weren’t there. Almost landed on my ass.” A lazy little smile suddenly crossed his face as he gazed at Patrick. “Hey you.”

Patrick’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of Pete’s soft, husky voice. “Hey you,” he murmured as he let himself be pulled into a kiss.

When the kiss finally ended Patrick’s cheeks were pink and Pete had a delighted smile on his face. “Beautiful baby,” he said softly as he nuzzled the redhead’s ear, chuckling when Patrick’s cheeks grew even redder. “And you smell good, too.”

“Shower,” Patrick said as he finally took a sip of his own coffee.

Pete suddenly pouted. “I missed you naked and covered in soap?” he complained. “You definitely should’ve woken me up for that. I could’ve helped you wash all the places you can’t reach.”

“Which isn’t that much. And you wouldn’t have stopped there and you know it,” Patrick retorted with a smile. He squeezed Pete’s fingers in apology. “Another time?”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Pattycakes,” Pete promised as he finished his coffee. Putting the cup down, he gave Patrick another lingering kiss. “Mmm…I could kiss you all day.”

Patrick sighed. “I like the sound of that.”

Reaching around, Pete took Patrick’s cup out of his hands and put it on the counter. “So do I,” he whispered into Patrick’s ear. “Come back to bed, baby.”

Reluctantly, Patrick gave him another kiss and drew away. “Can’t,” he said, shaking his head. At Pete’s puzzled frown, the singer tapped at his bandaged wrist. “It’s been a week. I should get these out.”

Pete stared at the bandages for a long moment. “Oh.” He visibly shook himself, his hair going in all directions. “Yeah…okay. We should do that.” He gave Patrick a smacking kiss on the cheek before pulling away fully. “Is there more coffee?”

“Yeah.” Patrick refilled the bassist’s mug and handed it over, smiling when Pete downed that cup as well. “You’re cute all mussed up and half asleep,” he commented.

“And you’re cute all the time,” Pete said with a smile of his own. He sat down at the kitchen table. “So…doctor. You have a doctor here in LA?”

Patrick shook his head as he sat down next to him. “I was figuring maybe a clinic downtown?”

Frowning, Pete immediately shook his head. “Babe, you’ll be down there all day,” he said. “And the longer you’re down there, the more of a chance you have of getting recognized.” He brushed a finger over Patrick’s bandaged wrists. “And we’ve been pretty good about keeping this out of the press so far. Do you want to take the chance of this getting out now?”

Patrick immediately shook his head. “No. I didn’t think of that,” he admitted softly as he glanced down at his wrists. _Idiot_ , he berated himself. _Everyone’s done so much to protect you because you were so stupid. Use your head for once._

“Hey.” Pete’s soft voice caused him to look up. “None of that. Okay?”

Patrick feigned confusion. “None of what?”

Reaching over, Pete brushed a finger along Patrick’s cheek. “Beating yourself up,” he answered, the look on his face serious. “Putting yourself down. I don’t like it, remember?” There was a pause. “You’re not an idiot or stupid or any of the other names you’ve been calling yourself lately.” At the skeptical look on Patrick’s face, Pete continued, his voice soft. “Was I when I tried?”

“Of course not,” Patrick said immediately. “You were sick.”

“And so are you.” Pete grasped the singer’s fingers. “This…it fucks with your head, sweetheart. You’ve seen it.”

Patrick sighed. “Yeah.” He remembered how bad Pete had been when he had been self-medicating, how wildly his moods had swung back and forth. “You’re a lot better, you know.”

Pete wrinkled his nose. “Took me fucking long enough,” he said with a wry smile. “You will be, too. Once the meds start to kick in and everything. And I’ll help.” He caressed Patrick’s fingers with his thumb. “Whatever you need, baby.”

Patrick just sat there across from him, watching Pete’s thumb going over his fingers. “You shouldn’t worry so much,” he murmured. “I’m fine.”

Pete suddenly frowned. “You’re not fine,” he said softly. “Not yet. But you will be. I’ll make sure of that.” He paused. “And I like worrying about you. You should have someone worrying about you all the time.”

Patrick’s cheeks turned bright red. “Better things for you to do,” he muttered, his voice so soft that Pete almost missed it.

He didn’t, though. “Only if by things you mean stuff like kissing you senseless,” he said, pulling the singer closer. “Because I can do that all fucking day.” For emphasis he brushed his lips against Patrick’s.

Sighing, Patrick moved even closer, letting Pete deepen the kiss. He dug his fingers into Pete’s T-shirt as their tongues tangled together, tasting coffee and something that was uniquely Pete. _Love you,_ he thought, the words echoing in his head over and over again. _Love you so much…Pete…_

When Pete finally drew away, Patrick had a dazed expression on his face. “Much better look for you,” he said, patting Patrick’s cheek as he grinned. “I’ll have to do that all the time.”

Patrick blinked. “I’m okay with it if you are,” he finally said.

“Don’t say things like that unless you want me to drag you back upstairs,” Pete warned, the tone of his voice indicating that he was only half-joking.

Patrick considered that for a moment. “Maybe later?”

“Definitely later,” Pete promised, squeezing Patrick’s fingers before letting go. “So…doctor,” he said, getting back to the subject at hand. “Since you don’t have one here, want me to try calling mine? See if he has a cancellation or something?”

A relieved look crossed the redhead’s face. “Would you?”

“Absolutely,” he said, getting up to go to the cordless sitting on the counter nearby. He quickly punched in the number and put the receiver to his ear. “Hi, Allison, It’s Pete Wentz. How’re you doing today?” There was a pause. “Good, I’m glad. Listen…does Dr. James have any openings today?” Another pause. “No, it’s not for me. It’s for a friend. He needs stitches taken out.” He paused again to listen before looking up at Patrick. “11:30?” he asked. When Patrick nodded, he turned his attention back to the phone. “Yeah, 11:30 is fine. We can make it.” He glanced up at the clock on the wall to be sure; it was barely nine. “Tell him to bring his insurance card and ID,” he said and Patrick nodded again. “Okay, Allison. We’ll see you then. Thanks.” He hung up, smiling over at Patrick. “Okay, babe?”

A grateful look appeared on Patrick’s face. “Thank you,” he said softly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Pete replied stubbornly. “I want to help. I need to be able to help you in whatever way I can. I’ll go crazy if I don’t.” Going back to stand behind Patrick’s chair, he leaned in and wrapped himself around the singer, pressing a kiss near his ear. “Please, sweetheart…please let me help you however I can.”

Closing his eyes, Patrick put his hands over Pete’s. “You’ve done so much already,” he protested. “You shouldn’t…”

“I shouldn’t what? Want to help the man I love get better?” Pete asked quietly. “I love you. And I hate seeing you like this.” He brushed a kiss along Patrick’s cheek. “You should always have a smile on your face.”

Patrick leaned into the touch. “It’s just…you have your own shit to deal with,” he murmured. “You shouldn’t have to deal with mine, too.” Closing his eyes, he let out a heavy sigh. “I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t be here ruining things for you.”

_That does it_ , Pete thought, his temper flaring to life. He was nipping this in the bud right the hell now. “You’re not ruining anything. Stop talking like that.” Sitting back down in front of Patrick, he gave the other man a tap on the nose. “Open your eyes. I want you to look at me.”

Patrick did and Pete was stunned when he saw the bleak, hopeless expression looking back at him. _He’s afraid still_ , he realized. _Even after everything I said last night, he’s still afraid I’ll push him away._ A determined look appeared on Pete’s face. _No more. He shouldn’t look like that anymore._

Reaching out, he took Patrick’s hands in his again. “Okay, now I want you to listen to me for a bit, because I’m only going to say this once.” He waited until Patrick nodded before continuing. “You can stay here for as long as you need to.”

Patrick stared. “What?” he finally asked, his voice soft and small and sounding so sad that Pete felt his heart break. “But…”

“No buts,” Pete interrupted with a shake of his head. “I don’t care whether it’s for a day, a week, a month or a year. You can stay for as long as it takes for you to get your head back on straight and your feet back under you again.” He squeezed Patrick’s trembling fingers. “I mean…you’re better, Pattycakes, but with everything going on still in your head, I still don’t think you should be left alone.”

Patrick shook his head, his eyes brimming with tears. “No…Pete…I can’t,” he murmured, a lone tear sliding down his cheek. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking.” Gently Pete reached out to brush the tear away. “I’m basically telling you how it’s gonna be.” He paused, the look on his face pleading. “Please, baby. Please let me help you. I…I don’t…” He took a deep breath and continued. “I don’t want to lose you. Not like this.”

Patrick was silent for a long moment before managing a wan, watery smile. “You always were a bossy bitch.”

Pete managed one as well. “You know it.”

Patrick clutched at Pete’s fingers. “You have to tell me if I’m getting on your nerves or pissing you off or anything,” he said. “We have to talk to each other. The hiatus…a lot of that was because we didn’t.” He paused. “I don’t want that happening again.”

“It won’t,” Pete said, quickly reassuring him. “It **couldn’t**. Things are so much better between us now. And we have this.” Bringing Patrick’s hands to his lips, he brushed a kiss across his fingers. “That won’t happen again. Not ever. Not as long as I have breath in my body.” He brushed the lightest of kisses against Patrick’s lips next. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Patrick breathed, resting his head on Pete’s t-shirted shoulder. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means.”

Pete buried a kiss in Patrick’s hair. “I think I’ve got an idea,” he murmured. “Whatever you need. I don’t care what it is. I want you to tell me. I don’t care if it’s a shoulder to cry on, a kick in the ass, me on my knees blowing you…”

That drew a spurt of laughter out of Patrick. “The last one? Not just now,” he said, smiling as he drew away. “Maybe later when you drag me back upstairs. Okay?”

“Definitely okay,” Pete said before he stole yet another kiss. “Want more coffee?”

Patrick glanced over at the cup still sitting on the counter. “Is there any left?”

“I’ll make more. And we should probably figure out breakfast before we leave.” Getting up, Pete went to the coffee pot. He eyed Patrick. “You should definitely eat something.”

Patrick was about to protest when he caught the look Pete was giving him and gave up. “Okay, I’ll eat something,” he said. “You should, too. You’re as bad as I am sometimes.”

“I haven’t lost another twenty pounds in the last couple weeks.” Measuring coffee into the filter, he switched it on. “Was there anything else you needed to do today?”

Patrick watched as Pete took both coffee mugs and rinsed them out. “If I’m staying in LA for a while I should look for a therapist.” There was a pause. “I really don’t want to, but I know I should to talk to someone about all this.”

A sympathetic look crossed Pete’s face. “Didn’t the hospital make you talk to someone before they released you?”

Patrick wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, but I didn’t like him. He was creepy.”

That got Pete’s attention. “Creepy how? He didn’t try anything, did he?”

Patrick immediately shook his head. “Not that kind of creepy,” he quickly said in an attempt to reassure Pete. “It was…I think he kind of knew who I was but not exactly? He kept asking me about my friends and what parties I went to and what I was taking and how I should be honest with him if I wanted to get better.” He wrinkled his nose and continued. “I think he was trolling for stories to sell to the tabs.”

“Probably.” Pete was scowling. “Asshole.”

“Yeah. He wasn’t too happy when I wouldn’t tell him anything.” Patrick leaned back in his chair. “The only thing he did say that made any sense was that I should talk to someone, even if it’s just to keep track on how I’m doing on the medication.”

Pouring out two cups of coffee, Pete handed him one and sat back down. “Want to try mine?” he asked. “She’s good. Doesn’t put up with any bullshit.”

Patrick’s eyes went wide. “You see a therapist?” Pete nodded as he took a sip. “Since when?”

“Since right around the time Ashlee left,” he said. “I was pretty fucked up before then, but her leaving kinda pushed me off into the deep end.”

Patrick couldn’t help it. He stared at the bassist, stunned. “You never said anything,” he finally said, his voice quiet. “Why?”

Pete shrugged. “Never really came up. And it’s not something you just come out and announce out of the blue, you know?” There was a pause. “It’s not that I was hiding it or anything.”

“I know.” Patrick took a sip of his own coffee. “Was she the one who finally straightened out your meds?”

Pete nodded. “Yeah. And she keeps an eye on everything still to make sure it all keeps working and keeps me even.” He paused. “She talks, but she listens, too. And what she says makes you think, you know?” He smiled. “She’s really helped.”

Patrick nodded. “I can tell.” He smiled as well. “I’m glad she did. Before the break you were…” He stopped, trying to find words that wouldn’t hurt, wouldn’t sting.

“A walking hot mess two seconds away from self-destructing?” Pete offered, still smiling. “It’s okay, babe. It’s the truth. At least, it was back then.”

“How often do you go see her?” Patrick asked as he took another sip of his coffee. He couldn’t help but be curious; it was side of his friend that he had never known about before.

“Once a week now. When I started, it was every Monday, Wednesday and Friday,” Pete said. “Now it’s just Fridays.”

Patrick frowned a little, thinking back. “But you didn’t this past Friday.”

“Phone session. She does them when we’re out on tour, too.” He paused. “Do you want me to call her? See if she has an opening for today?”

There was a long moment of silence. “I think…would you?” Patrick’s voice was soft. “Not that I wouldn’t talk to you…”

“But there are things that you’d tell her that you won’t tell me in a million years. Especially if they’re about me,” Pete finished as he got up again to go to the phone. “I know that. It’s the same for me.” He paused. “Doesn’t change how I feel about you. How much I trust you.”

Smiling, Patrick nodded. “I know that, too.” They shared a long look before Pete flashed a smile of his own and began to dial.

“Hey, Lindsey. It’s Pete Wentz. How are you?” He listened for a moment before grinning. “Great! I’m glad everything worked out for you with everything. Listen…does Dr. Anne have any openings for today?” There was a pause. “No, it’s not for me. It’s for a friend. Yeah, I can wait while you check.” He put his hand over the receiver. “She’s checking.”

Patrick’s eyebrows went up. “Never would’ve guessed.”

Pete stuck out his tongue at him, about to retort when he heard a voice on the other end. “Yeah, I’m still here. What have you got?” He listened for a moment. “Two?” He looked at Patrick, who nodded. “Two is fine. I’ll make sure he brings what he needs.” One more pause. “Thanks, Linds. See you then.” He hung up. “Okay?”

Patrick nodded. “Fine.” He paused. “So the regular doctor at 11:30 and the therapist at 2?”

Pete nodded as he sat back down again. “I figure we could do lunch somewhere downtown in between? They’re not far from each other and it’ll be easier than coming all the way back here.”

“That’s fine.” Patrick took another sip of his coffee. “And the rest? What I need to bring with me?”

“ID, insurance card, money for the copay, list of medications. The usual.” Pete drained his cup. He caught the worried look on Patrick’s face and leaned over to give him a gentle kiss. “It’s gonna be all right, sweetheart. Okay?”

Getting up, Patrick stepped into his arms, a warm feeling growing in his chest thanks to the endearment. “Okay.” He rested his head on Pete’s shoulder. “I hope so.”

“It will. Just you wait and see.” Pete buried a kiss in Patrick’s red hair as he tightened his arms around him. “I love you, you know.”

Patrick closed his eyes, relaxing in the embrace. “I know,” he murmured. “I love you, too.”

                                                                        *****


	2. Chapter 2

Patrick stared at the unassuming glass door with the words ‘Dr. Anne Casselberry, licensed psychologist’ stenciled on it in graceful flowing script. “This is it?” he asked Pete, his eyes wide.

“This is it,” Pete confirmed, opening the door and ushering Patrick upstairs. “She started up in this office about fifteen years ago and never left. Says it makes her patients feel more comfortable about telling her things if it looks like she’s not cashing in.”

“She’s not?” Patrick asked, frowning a little.

Pete shook his head. “Not one thin dime,” he said as they climbed the stairs. “Her husband died and left her a zillion dollars right around the time she opened her office. Avocados or silver or something like that. So she really doesn’t have to do this at all.”

“So why does she?”

Pete shrugged. “Paying it forward, she told me once. Never explained it beyond that and the tone of her voice told me not to ask.” He paused at the door at the top of the stairs. “She’s good. Really. Just give her a chance, okay?” When Patrick nodded, Pete opened the door and they both went in.

A pretty young redhead with bright purple streaks in her hair peered around her computer. “Pete!”

Pete grinned. “Hey, Lindsey. So the tickets worked out okay?”

She grinned as well, a blush coloring her cheeks. “She was very impressed. Thanks again for them.”

“Not a problem. Always happy to help the course of true love run smooth.” Taking Patrick’s hand, he pulled the singer to his side. “Lindsey Buchannan…Patrick Stump,” he introduced.

Lindsey stared wide-eyed as Patrick extended a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She took it a moment later. “And it’s wonderful to meet you!” she gushed. “I was at the show last week. Your voice is absolutely incredible.”

Patrick managed a smile. “Thank you,” he said before backing away a little, suddenly uncomfortable with the reminder of that night and how it had all ended.

Pete quickly stepped in. “Linds, do you have the paperwork Patrick needs to fill out?” he asked, dragging her attention away from Patrick and back to her job.

“Oh! Yes!” She handed over a clipboard and a pen. “And I just need your insurance card and ID please.”

Taking out his wallet, Patrick handed them over before sitting down. Pete waited until Lindsey was done copying them before going to sit down next to him. “She’s a fan?” Patrick asked, not looking up from the forms he was filling out.

“Since “Cork Tree”,” Pete answered, nodding. “I gave her pit tickets to the last show so she could impress her girlfriend.” He suddenly grinned again. “And from everything she said, I guess it worked.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Incorrigible romantic,” he teased. “You’re in love so everyone else should be, too?”

“Why not? Everybody deserves to be as happy as they can be.” He leaned over and brushed a kiss along Patrick’s cheek. Patrick blushed and went back to his form.

Several minutes later, an older woman dressed in jeans and with her long graying hair done up in an intricately braided bun stepped into the waiting room. “Pete,” she greeted with a smile. “Lindsey says you brought someone for me?”

Pete stood up, bringing Patrick with him. “Dr. Anne Casselberry…Patrick Stump,” he introduced.

“Your lead singer,” the doctor said as she held out her hand. “Most everyone calls me Dr. Anne. It’s good to meet you, Patrick.”

“Likewise.” They shook hands. “Pete says you’ve really helped him.”

“Does he now?” She glanced over at Pete, looking amused. “I hope I have, considering how long he’s been coming to me.” Taking the clipboard out of Patrick’s hand, she passed it over to Lindsey. “Come on back with me, Patrick. Lindsey, try to keep Pete from listening at the door.”

Pete laughed. “I’ll do you one better, Doc. I’ll take myself out of temptation.” He turned to Patrick. “There’s a Starbucks two blocks down and I need some more coffee. Did you want anything?”

Patrick smiled, shaking his head. “No, thank you.”

Pete turned to Dr. Anne next. “Doc?”

She shook her head as well. “No, thank you, Pete.”

He turned to Lindsey next. “Linds?”

“Oh, God yes,” she said, reaching for her purse. “The biggest white chocolate mocha latte they have? I was running late this morning and I didn’t have a chance to stop.”

“No problem. And put it away.” He waved away the money she held out. “I’ve got it.” He turned back to Patrick. “I’ll be back.” Reaching out, he grasped the singer’s hands and gently squeezed his fingers. “You gonna be okay?”

Patrick nodded, forcing a smile. “I’ll be fine as long as you’re here when I get out.”

“Definitely.” Leaning over, he gave Patrick a gentle kiss. “Love you, babe.”

“Love you,” Patrick murmured, his cheeks turning pink. He watched Pete head down the stairs before following Dr. Anne back to her office.

Dr. Anne ushered Patrick in, shutting the door behind him. “Please, take a seat anywhere,” she said, settling into a chair in front of her desk. Warily, Patrick took the seat in front of her. “Have you ever been to a therapist before?”

Patrick shook his head. “Never had a need to before now.”

She adjusted her glasses. “And why would you need to now?” she asked, her voice quiet. She nodded at the light bandaging that was peeking out from under his shirt cuffs. “Because of what happened to you?”

Patrick pulled at his shirt sleeves, covering the bandages all the way. He didn’t say anything, didn’t answer her question. He just sat there in front of her, glaring.

Dr. Anne stared back for a moment before smiling and looking away. “All right, then. A gesture of trust?” When Patrick still didn’t say anything she got up from her chair and went over to her desk. Pulling out a piece of paper from her top desk drawer, she put it in front of him. “Confidentiality agreement,” she said matter-of-factly. “I sign one with all of my patients. A little piece of mind for both of us. I don’t tape my sessions and I keep what few notes I make at home in a locked cabinet only I have the combination for.” She tapped on the wall next to her. “And this room is completely soundproof. What is said in this room stays between you and me.”

Patrick considered everything for a moment. _Pete trusts her_ , he thought. _He’s come to her for years and he trusts her. That means I can, too._ Picking up a pen, he signed his name to the confidentiality agreement, watching as she signed it as well. Then, when she sat back down across from him, he began to talk.

*****

Forty-five minutes later, Patrick was sniffling, trying to keep the tears at bay as Dr. Anne pushed over a box of tissues. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset,” she apologized.

He shook his head as he took a tissue, swiping under his glasses. “No…I understand. You have to know,” he said, his voice shaking a little. “It’s just…it’s hard to talk about.”

“I can see that,” Dr. Anne said, her voice full of sympathy. “Does Pete know?”

Patrick was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, “Pete knows some of it.” His voice was soft as well. “He knows that Elisa left, but he doesn’t know the real reason why. And he knows I’m not speaking to my mom right now, but he doesn’t know why about that, either.”

Dr. Anne leaned back in her chair. “You should tell him,” she said gently. “In fact, I really think you need to.”

The singer let out a heavy sigh. “He’ll hate me,” he muttered, looking down at his hands. “I don’t want him to hate me.”

“Why would he hate you for something that was out of your control?” she asked gently. “I saw how he treated you in the waiting room. It’s obvious he loves you very much.” She smiled. “I don’t think you have anything to be afraid of on that score.” She paused. “I’m not saying go out and tell him right this second, but he does need to know. And he should know soon.”

Patrick forced himself to nod. “I will. And soon.” He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly cold in spite of his jacket. He also knew that he wouldn’t be warm until Pete’s arms were wrapped around him.

Dr. Anne gave him a long, searching look before nodding. “How are you feeling on the medication?”

Patrick thought for a moment. “Okay?”

Dr. Anne tilted her head. “You don’t sound very sure about that.”

“I’m not, really. When I first started taking them, they made me feel like my brain was in a fog.” Patrick said, forcing himself to relax a little. Almost over. This was almost over. “That’s gotten better. But they still make me tired.”

She nodded. “That’s one of the side effects. Is it affecting your everyday life?”

Patrick shook his head. “Not right now. We just came off tour, so we’re all due for a break before we head back into the studio.”

She made a note on a pad of paper in front of her. “We’ll keep you on them for now, give your body a little more time to get adjusted. Some medicines take a little while to work properly when it comes to body chemistry.” She paused. “I’m going to want to see you twice a week for now. Is this time good for you?”

Patrick considered the question for a moment before shrugging. “Seems to be for now.”

She made another note. “All right. And I’ll make your second day the same time on Friday.” She looked up. “I see Pete at three. That’ll save you some hassle with getting here.”

Patrick offered a wan smile. “Thank you. That’ll help.”

She smiled as well as she got up from her chair. “Let’s see if Pete is back from his coffee run.”

Following Dr. Anne out, Patrick heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Pete sitting in the corner flipping through a magazine. He looked up, immediately standing when he saw Patrick. “Hey you.”

“Hey you.” Suddenly exhausted, Patrick went straight into the other man’s arms and buried his face in Pete’s shoulder.

Pete immediately became alarmed. “Patrick? Baby, you okay?” Without waiting for an answer, he shot Dr. Anne a sharp look. “What happened in there?”

Dr. Anne gave Pete a tolerant smile as she handed the file folder to Lindsey. “Now, Pete, you know I can’t discuss another patient with you.”

Biting back a retort, Pete turned his attention back to the man in his arms. “Trick? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Patrick took a deep, shuddering breath that ended in a sigh. “I’m okay,” he murmured, taking in the combined scent of coffee, cologne and Pete’s natural musk. It comforted him immediately, with Pete’s touch in the form of a hand rubbing his back calming him even further. “I’m okay.”

“Look at me and say that.” Patrick did as he was told, drawing away enough so Pete could see his face and offering a faint smile in the process. “You look wiped out.”

“I am.” Patrick settled his head back on Pete’s broad shoulder. “Can we go?”

“You bet.” Kissing Patrick’s temple, Pete slid his arm up to wrap protectively around the redhead’s shoulder. He looked up at Dr. Anne. “His next appointment?”

“Friday,” she said. “Before you.”

Pete nodded. “We’ll see you then. C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.” He ushered Patrick down the stairs and out the door.

Both men were silent during the short drive home. The moment they were both inside, however, Pete took Patrick back into his arms. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked gently, the worry evident in his voice.

“Tired more than anything,” Patrick said as he put his head back on Pete’s shoulder. “Long day. You know?”

“Yeah,” Pete agreed, planting a kiss in the singer’s red hair. “Why don’t you go sit down on the couch and put your feet up? I’ll make us both some coffee.”

Patrick looked up. “Tea?” he asked hopefully.

Pete nodded. “I can do tea,” he said. “Regular with lemon and honey or that green stuff you like?”

“Lemon and honey, please.” He leaned over enough to kiss Pete’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Pete said softly, stealing another kiss. He gently pushed Patrick toward the living room. “Go on. Go sit.”

Settling on the couch, Patrick kicked off his sneakers and put his socked feet up on the coffee table, leaning back against the plush cushions. Feeling something lean against his leg, he opened his eyes and smiled. “Hey, Hemmy,” he murmured, reaching down to pet the bulldog’s head. “Did you miss me and Daddy?” Hemmy’s tail began thumping against the cushions as he panted. “Good boy. You’re such a good dog.”

Coming in several minutes later with two steaming mugs, Pete handed one over before sitting down. “Got company already, huh?” he said with a smile.

“Definitely your dog with the way he likes to be petted,” Patrick teased as he took a long sip of his tea.

“You can rub my belly anytime you want,” Pete teased back, the smile turning into a grin. “Did I make it okay?” he asked, indicating Patrick’s cup with a nod.

Patrick nodded as well. “Perfect. Thank you.” Sighing, he rested his head against Pete’s shoulder.

Pete rested his own cheek against the singer’s red hair. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Just tired.”

Pete was silent for a long moment, sipping his coffee. Finally, he said quietly, “You know you can tell me anything. If you want to talk…” He didn’t finish.

“I know.” Patrick’s voice was just as quiet. “Just…not right now. Okay?”

“Sure.” Slowly, Pete slid an arm around Patrick’s shoulders. “When you’re ready.”

They sat like that, quietly snuggling up against one another as they watched the sun go down. When it finally disappeared behind the trees, Pete took Patrick’s now empty cup out of his hands and put it on the coffee table before gently kissing his cheek. “C’mon, sweetheart. Up to bed.”

Blinking out of his doze, Patrick smothered a yawn with the back of his hand. “Tired,” he murmured.

“I know you are. I am, too. But you’ll be a lot more comfortable in bed, I promise.” Pete got to his feet, bringing Patrick up with him. “Up you go, Trick. Come on.”

Patrick clung to the bassist as he let himself be led up to the stairs. “Can I stay?” he asked as they walked. “Want to stay with you. Sleep next to you.”

Pete brushed a kiss along Patrick’s hairline, an ache filling his heart because of the question. “Of course you’re sleeping next to me, baby,” he answered, his voice still soft, still gentle. He didn’t want anything startling Patrick awake any more than he was. “I’m not letting you go, not for a minute. Let’s just get you undressed and you can lie right back down.” Leading him into the bedroom, Pete stopped next to the bed and began undoing Patrick’s shirt buttons.

One of Patrick’s hands slid up to fumble against his. “Just to sleep?” he asked, his eyes half-closed, his words slurring just a little. “Too tired for anything…anything else.”

“Just to sleep,” Pete reassured him, wondering for a moment where that had come from. “Nothing else for now. I promise.”

Patrick’s head went back to rest on his shoulder as his eyes closed fully. “I know,” he murmured. “You’re not…not her. Not Elisa.” He let Pete’s hand go, his arm falling limply to his side. “So tired…”

Swallowing down his nearly incandescent rage, Pete forced himself to slowly, calmly finish unbuttoning Patrick’s shirt and slide it off his shoulders. _What the ever loving fuck did that twisted bitch make him do?_ He thought as he dropped the shirt to one side and went to work on Patrick’s pants. _You never mentioned her fucking forcing you to do anything._ Easing Patrick’s jeans off his hips, Pete grabbed the covers with one hand and yanked them aside before sitting the singer down on the bed. “Pattycakes? Baby? Can you stay sitting up long enough for me to get your shoes and socks off? Or can you kick them off for me?”

“Mmm…maybe.” He swayed a little, immediately frowning when Pete drew away. “No…don’t go…”

“Shh. I’m right here,” Pete crooned as he bent down long enough to get Patrick’s shoes, socks and jeans off and out of the way. Taking the singer back into his arms, he carefully slid his glasses off as well and put them on the bedside table. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just lie down.” He began easing Patrick back against the pillows.

Still frowning, Patrick grasped Pete’s arm and let out a whine of protest. “No. With me. Want you with me.”

“Okay, Pattycakes, okay,” Pete said, pressing a kiss against Patrick’s pouting lips. “Give me a sec. Let me get undressed and turn out the light.” It took a little longer than that, especially since Patrick was so reluctant to let him go, but soon Pete’s clothes were on the floor and he was down to his black boxer briefs. He clicked off the lamp and immediately lay down, gathering Patrick close. “There. Better?”

Patrick put his head on Pete’s chest, right under his necklace of thorns tattoo. He immediately let out a contented sigh as his arms wrapped around Pete’s waist. “I can hear your heart,” he murmured.

Putting his hand on Patrick’s head, Pete began running his fingers through the copper strands. “Do you hear what it’s saying to you?” he asked quietly. “Over and over again…it’s saying how much I love you.”

“Pete,” Patrick breathed, snuggling close as Pete settled the comforter over them both. “Love you, too…so much.” A moment later, he was softly snoring.

“I know, sweetheart,” Pete said softly as he closed his own eyes, pushing aside his rage and worry for the time being. “I know.”

                                                                        *****

The next morning, Pete forced himself to wait until he and Patrick were downstairs at the kitchen table and nursing their first cups of coffee before asking the question that had been bothering him all night long. “Babe…can we talk for a sec?”

Patrick immediately frowned. “You said when I was ready,” he said mildly.

“Not about that,” Pete said, immediately noting the relieved look that crossed the redhead’s face. _Later,_ he told himself, pushing aside all his other questions for the time being. _Everything else can wait. This can’t._ “It’s about yesterday. After we got home. When I took you upstairs.”

Patrick took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t remember a whole lot of that,” he confessed with a small smile.

“No…I know. You were pretty tired.” Pete suddenly smiled. “Which was pretty fucking adorable, by the way.”

Patrick’s cheeks turned bright red. “Stop.”

“Never.” Pete leaned over enough to plant a smacking kiss right in the middle of one flushed cheek before continuing. “Anyway, you said something while I was helping you get undressed. And…well...it kinda worried me a little.”

Patrick’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What did I say?”

Pete bit his lip. “You really don’t remember?”

Patrick shook his head. “I really don’t remember,” he said as he took another sip of his coffee. “Was I rambling? You know I do if I get too tired.”

“A little. You were still making sense, though,” Pete said. Finally, he gave up and plunged right in. “While I was helping you undress, you asked if you could stay with me. Sleep with me.”

Patrick shrugged. “Not surprised about that considering everything yesterday,” he said. “What else?”

Draining his coffee cup, Pete set it back on the table but kept his fingers wrapped around it, more for giving his hands something to do than anything else. “Well…I told you that of course you were sleeping with me, especially since I wasn’t planning on letting you go. And that’s when you asked me “just to sleep?” and told me how tired you were.” Swallowing hard, Pete continued. “And when I promised you that it was just to sleep…you said that you knew. And that I wasn’t Elisa.”

Patrick’s eyes went wide as he set his coffee cup down with a thud. “I really said that?”

Pete nodded. “You really said that.” There was a long pause. “What did she make you do?”

Patrick was silent for a long moment, his eyes locked onto his coffee cup. “It wasn’t exactly making me do things,” he finally said, his voice soft. “I mean, I could’ve said no if I had wanted to.”

_But you never did, did you? Even if you had wanted to, you never did_ , Pete thought, his anger growing by leaps and bounds. _God help me, if I ever see that bitch again I’m going to slowly strangle the life out of her with my bare hands._

“It wasn’t what you’re thinking.”

Pete stared at him, an incredulous look on his face. “Really? Because it sure as hell sounds like it.” Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath in an effort to reign in his temper. “Explain to me what it was then.”

“Why?” Patrick’s voice was still soft, still quiet. “It’s over and done.”

“Because I want to understand this and right now I don’t.” Opening his eyes, he met Patrick’s. “Explain it to me. Please.”

Heaving a sigh, Patrick ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. “She had insomnia. Not as bad as you, but pretty close. And with her job, she had to actually try and get a restful night’s sleep every night in order for her to function the next day, you know?”

Pete nodded; that was something he could definitely relate to. “Tranquilizers? Over the counter sleeping pills?”

“She couldn’t tolerate any of them. And she tried just about every other thing she could think of.” Patrick paused. “There was only one thing that worked every time.”

“Sex,” Pete guessed.

Blushing, Patrick nodded. “Sex.” Finishing his coffee, he got up and poured himself another cup. “Do you want some more?”

Pete shook his head. “I’m good.” He waited until Patrick was sitting back down before asking the one question that was nagging at him. “So how did that work exactly? Did she just make you fuck her every night just so she could get a little shut eye?”

Patrick shook his head, his face once again bright red all the way to his ears. “Not exactly,” he hedged. “She’d have me…I’d go down on her until she…you know…until it was enough.” He shrugged, smiling a little. “Wasn’t something I exactly minded doing.”

_But it should’ve been something you both wanted. Not you being at her beck and call_ , Pete thought, biting back the words just in time. “There are these things called vibrators,” he said instead. “Did she ever think of trying something like that instead of just using you?”

“I did suggest that once. Even went out and bought her one,” Patrick answered. “I got accused of being insensitive and selfish and about fifteen other things.” Another shrug. “I really didn’t want to argue with her at the time, so I just let it go.”

Pete’s dark eyes went wide. “You did what?” he asked, a part of him not believing what he was hearing. He remembered the countless fights the two of them had battled through – the curses screamed at each other, paper torn into shreds and tossed like confetti, wildly swinging punches. And all the while Patrick standing his ground and not backing down, not giving even one inch because of how sure he was, how right he knew his way to be.

The Patrick he knew and loved didn’t back down and let things go. Not for anything.

Another shrug, followed by the slightest droop of his shoulders. “I let it go,” he repeated. “I had just started touring with you guys again and there were long stretches when I was away.” He took a long sip of his coffee. “I didn’t want to spend what little time I had with Elisa fighting with her.”

All Pete could do was stare at him. _Jesus fuck…is he actually blaming himself for all of this?_ It certainly sounded like it from where he was sitting. “You let it go,” he repeated it again, still trying to wrap his head around the thought. “You never let anything go. At least you never used to.”     

“I’ve gotten better at that,” Patrick said mildly. “Especially since me being a stubborn little shit nearly made me lose both my band and my best friend.” Yet another shrug. “Call it growing up if you want to.”

_I don’t want to_ , Pete couldn’t help thinking. _I liked you stubborn._ “You never lost me,” he suddenly said, reaching out to put a hand on Patrick’s arm. “Yeah, there were times when you pissed me off to no end. And I know there were times when I drove you batshit insane…but you never lost me.” Pete’s voice was firm. “Not for one second.”

A soft smile crossed Patrick’s face as he put a hand over Pete’s. “I know that now.”

Pete smiled back for a moment before remembering what had pissed him off so much in the first place. “And if I ever see that bitch of an ex of yours again she’s gonna wish she had never been born.”

To his surprise, Patrick shook his head. “Don’t,” he said softly. “It’s not worth it. It’s over and done, like I said.” There was a pause. “Let it go.”

“Let it go?” Pete repeated, his voice rising in anger. “She **used** you. Like you were her own personal fucking sex toy. **And** she made you feel like shit about it besides. And you want me to fucking let it go?”

“Yes.” Patrick’s voice was calm. “Because it wasn’t all her. A lot of it…most of it was me.”

“You are the sweetest, kindest, most loving and generous person I know,” Pete stated baldly. “You would bend yourself into a motherfucking pretzel if someone needed you to. I’ve seen you do it, for Christ sakes.” Unable to sit any longer, Pete lunged out of his chair and began to pace. “I know you. And I know damn well that you treated Elisa like a fucking goddess and you haven’t said one bad word about her yet, even after what she did to you!” He stopped in front of Patrick, the frustration evident on his face. “And the only thing I’m hearing from you about all this is that it wasn’t her, it was you? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Patrick was silent, his mouth set in a thin, stubborn line even as he looked away, looked at everything else except Pete. Seeing that expression on his lover’s face suddenly brought a horrible thought into Pete’s head. “It’s more than that isn’t it? More than Elisa doing what you said she did. Did something else happen whenever you went home?” He swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “Was she…was she hitting you?”

“What?” A look of complete surprise appeared on Patrick’s face. “Jesus Christ, Pete…of course not!”

“Then what! Because I still don’t fucking understand any of this!” Pete suddenly yelled as he waved his hands about in complete and utter frustration, making Patrick jump in his seat. “Especially the part where you actually think you deserved to be treated like complete shit!” Pete stopped in his tracks. “The only thing I understood even less? When you were lying in that hospital bed telling me that you wanted to die.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence as the two men stared at each other. Finally, Patrick took a deep, shuddering breath. “You said…you said when I was ready,” he whispered, looking away.

Pete’s shoulders slumped as he took in Patrick huddled in on himself and trying not to cry. “Yeah, I did,” he said, his own eyes stinging with tears. “Okay, sweetheart. I’ll let it go for now.” He turned away. “I’m sorry.” With that, he headed out into the living room toward the sliding glass doors.

Patrick sat at the kitchen table, wincing when he heard the patio door being shut with a bang. _You hurt him,_ a little voice inside his head whispered. _You’re getting pretty fucking good at that, aren’t you? The one person who loves you more than anything, whose standing by you through all your fucking drama and you hurt him._ Sighing, Patrick got up and followed Pete outside.

He found the bassist sitting on the stone steps leading out to the grass, staring out at the vast expanse of green. Sitting down next to him, Patrick leaned his head against Pete’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, too,” he whispered. “I know you’re only trying to help.”

After a moment, Pete rested his cheek against Patrick’s bright hair and sighed. “I just hate seeing anyone hurt you,” he finally said. “I mean, that’s usually my job.”

“Don’t,” Patrick said firmly, angling his head enough to glare at Pete. “I know you don’t like it when I talk about myself like that. Well, I don’t like it when you do it, either.” Taking one of Pete’s hands in his, he twined their fingers together. “It goes both ways, love.”

“Sorry.” Pete let out a heavy sigh. “All I seem to be doing this morning is apologizing.”

Patrick squeezed the fingers he was holding. “Maybe we ought to go back to bed and start the day all over again.”

Pete gave Patrick a sideways look. “I like the going back to bed part.” He thought for a moment. “Is there any reason why we can’t?”

Patrick shook his head almost immediately. “Not on my part. You?”

Pete shook his head as well. “Nope. Hemmy’s been fed and anything else I was going to do can wait a day. Or a handful of days. Don’t really care which.” He paused, glancing down at Patrick. “Unless you’re hungry?”

A slow smile suddenly spread across the singer’s face. “Not for food.” Standing up, he held out his hand. “Come with me?”

“Hopefully. If we time it right.” Grasping his lover’s hand, Pete let himself be pulled to his feet, grinning when Patrick giggled in response. “I’m corrupting you,” he said as they walked inside.

Patrick snorted in response. “Please. I was sixteen when I met you and I wasn’t exactly Snow White.” He paused long enough at the foot of the steps to give Pete a soft, lingering kiss. “Besides, did I say I minded?”

Pete slid his arms around Patrick’s waist. “I’m hoping you don’t,” he murmured before stealing another kiss.

After a moment, however, Patrick pulled away. “Inside,” he said a little breathlessly. “I’m not having sex with you out on the patio.”

A pout appeared on Pete’s face as he let himself be led inside and up the stairs. “Why not? It’s not like I have nosy neighbors or anything.” There was a pause. “And I know for a fact you’re not shy with me.”

“Not shy,” Patrick agreed, smiling. “It’s just a little too cold out there right now. At least it is for me.” He looked over his shoulder, still smiling. “Ask me again when it warms up a little.”

A look of pure delight suddenly crossed Pete’s face. “Really?”

“Really.”

Finally making it to the bedroom, Pete pulled Patrick back into his arms. “Something to look forward to,” he said softly before drawing the other man into yet another kiss.

Their kisses turned hungrier and more breathless as minutes passed and their hands traveled, sliding up under t-shirts before delving down into waistbands. Finally Pete broke away long enough to gasp out, “Clothes off. I want you naked right the fuck now.”

“You, too,” Patrick said as he slid off Pete’s shirt, tossing it to the floor. “Everything off.”

Pete let Patrick slide his pajama bottoms and briefs off his hips before grasping the hem of his shirt. “Arms up,” he murmured, letting out the breath he was holding when he dropped the shirt to the floor a moment later. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Patrick blushed. “So are you,” he murmured, a shiver running through him as Pete slid his hands over his chest and down his sides. “Perfect.”

“You’re the perfect one, babe,” Pete said as he stepped out of his clothes and kicked them aside, pulling Patrick’s down enough so he could do the same. Sitting them both down on the rumpled bed, Pete stole another kiss. “Here…lie back.”

To the bassist’s surprise, Patrick shook his head. “No…wait,” he said, pulling away just a little. “Can I…I want to try something.”

“Sure.” Pete grinned. “I told you the other night I was pretty much up for anything.”

“Even if I don’t know what the hell I’m doing?” Patrick asked as he gently pushed Pete back against the pillows.

“You’re a pretty fast learner. And I trust you.” Reaching up, he brushed his fingers against Patrick’s cheek. “How do you want me?”

“Just like this.” Leaning over, Patrick gave Pete a lingering kiss. “Just…let me do this?”

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” Pete murmured, sighing as Patrick began trialing kisses down his chin and along his collarbone. “God, I love what you can do with your mouth.”

“Wait until I really get going,” Patrick promised, tracing the inked lines of Pete’s necklace of thorns tattoo with his tongue. He brushed a finger against one of Pete’s nipples. “When did you take the rings out?”

“A while ago. Right around the time Ashlee left,” Pete said, his breath quickening a little as a spark of arousal went from his nipple straight to his groin. “It snagged on my shirt so badly one time that I almost ripped it out.” He let out a soft moan as Patrick pressed his lips against it next. “Oh…God.”

Patrick flicked his tongue around it, drawing another moan out of Pete. “I miss it a little,” he confessed, looking up.

That got Pete’s attention. “You liked it?”

“It was sexy.” Patrick kissed his way over to the other nipple, teasing that one erect as well. “But then everything about you was sexy back then. The piercings, the straightened hair, even the eyeliner.”

Reaching out, Pete brushed his fingers along Patrick’s cheek. “You never said,” he said softly.

A shrug answered him. “Lot of reasons for that,” Patrick said as he leaned up to kiss him again.

“I was a train wreck back then,” Pete said, voicing one of the biggest ones. “A seventeen car, derailed in the mountains during a snowstorm and dangling over a cliff smoking train wreck.”

“And I was barely legal and living out of a van with three other guys overflowing with hormones and self-doubt,” Patrick countered with a reassuring smile. “Neither one of us would’ve known what to do with any of this back then.” He brushed his fingers over Pete’s face. “And maybe…maybe that’s a good thing, everything that happened. All the history and the drama and the train wrecks. You know?”

“It got us here,” Pete murmured, understanding. “It got us to this.”

Patrick nodded and leaned over to give Pete another tongue-tangling kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Pete stole another kiss before nuzzling his ear. “So much.”

“Me, too.” They stayed like that for a long moment, simply savoring the closeness before Patrick drew away enough so Pete could see the gleam in his hazel eyes. “Now where was I?”

“You said something about trying things if I remember right.” Pete was smiling as well. “And then we were both got distracted by feelings and shit.”

“Right. So…around here then?” Patrick kissed his way over Pete’s collarbone and down his shoulder. “Does this feel right to you?”

“Better than right. Wonderful.” Pete breathed as he watched Patrick kiss and lick his way down his arm, brushing his lips against his fingers. “Taking the scenic route?”

“Mmm…you could say that.” Patrick planted a kiss directly in the center of Pete’s keyhole tattoo. “I still don’t know what some of these mean.”

“My ink?” Patrick nodded. “You can ask. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” He paused. “Be honest with you, though. Some of them don’t mean shit.”

Patrick paused, thinking for a moment. “Later,” he decided, moving back up the bassist’s arm and leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. “I have other things in mind right now.”

Pete was just about to ask what when Patrick latched back onto his nipple, gently pulling at it with his teeth. “Fuck,” he gasped as his arousal came back full force. “If you want…I can get it pierced again.”

Patrick moved lower, shaking his head. “Not unless you want to. I like you just like this.” Resting his hands on Pete’s hips, he placed a kiss right in the center of the bat heart tattoo and felt his lover shiver in response. “Okay?”

“Definitely better than okay,” Pete managed to get out, his voice shaking just a little. He angled his head up enough to look down at Patrick. “Sweetheart…you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Patrick looked up, a frown on his face. “Do you want me to stop? Am I doing something wrong?”

“No! Fuck no!” Pete exclaimed immediately, his eyes going wide as he sat up. “You are perfect, so fucking perfect in every way, I swear.” Flailing a little, he grasped Patrick’s hands and gently pulled. “C’mere.”

“Kinda in the middle of something here,” Patrick commented, smiling as he let himself be drawn into a hungry kiss. “Mmm. Can’t get enough of you.”

“And I definitely can’t get enough of you,” Pete said in between kisses. “You’re so fucking incredible, baby. So beautiful…so perfect…”

Patrick’s smile turned into a frown. “Definitely not the last one.”

“You are. I say you are. The most perfect little fucker I’ve ever known.” Pete brushed his nose against Patrick’s, grinning. “You don’t know how badly I want you to fuck me stupid right now.”

Patrick’s eyes went wide. “That’s something I never thought of,” he confessed. “I mean, I didn’t think you were serious before.”

One of Pete’s hands slid down to rest against Patrick’s hip. “Definitely serious,” he said as he gave the other man a feather light kiss. He glanced down at Patrick’s considerable erection. “And you like that idea, don’t you, baby?”

“I like a lot of your ideas,” Patrick agreed. “And that one has definite possibilities.” Suddenly he pushed Pete back against the pillows, giving him a hard kiss for good measure. “But not right now.” With that, he ducked his head back down and continued his journey.

Pete let out a frustrated little moan as Patrick pressed kisses along his thigh and down his knee. “God, you’re a tease,” he muttered as he fisted the bed sheets in an effort to keep his itching hands out of Patrick’s hair. “It feels so fucking good, but you’re a damn tease.”

“That’s what you get for interrupting me,” Patrick commented as he moved to Pete’s other leg, avoiding his erection for the time being.

“Just remember one thing, Pattycakes…paybacks are a bitch.”

“Looking forward to it.” He slowly slid his way back up, his hands going back to rest on Pete’s hips. He paused for a long moment, frowning just a little as he considered things.

Pete caught the look as he gazed down at the singer. “Patrick? Baby, if you want to stop…” He didn’t get to finish; a moment later Pete’s head was tilted back and he was groaning Patrick’s name as the singer’s tongue darted out and delicately licked at the tip of his cock.

Taste exploded on his tongue – salty-sweet and a little bitter, it was different but not unpleasant. Patrick licked again, lapping up the steady stream of fluid leaking out. Pete’s hips bucked off of the bed, causing him to back off a moment. “Easy,” he said, looking up. “I’m down here, you know.”

“God, do I know,” Pete gasped, his eyes wide. “Sorry, babe. You might want to really hold me down if you don’t want me to choke you.”

A thoughtful look crossed Patrick’s face. “Or I can find some of those scarves you used to wear and tie you to the bedposts.”

To Patrick’s surprise, Pete froze, the color draining from his face. “No,” he managed to get out. “Just…no. I’m good with you pinning me to the bed with your hands but not that. Okay?”

“Okay,” Patrick said just as quickly, backing away a little. “Do you want me to stop? Can I ask why?”

Pete shook his head, managing a smile. “You definitely don’t have to stop, babe. And I’m good with you asking.” Leaning close, he gave Patrick let another kiss. “Just…not now? I’m getting a serious case of blue balls here.”

Patrick couldn’t help chuckling a little into the kiss. “Okay. Definitely not now,” he agreed before giving Pete another kiss and gently pushing him back against the pillows. “Now…where were we again?”

“Patrick…baby…I swear to God if you can’t see how obvious things are, then we need to get you to an eye doctor and check your prescription,” Pete growled half-playful, half-serious as he waved a hand in the general direction of his erection. He was about to say more when Patrick ducked his head back down and ran his tongue up Pete’s cock from root to tip.

Pete let out another long, low groan, tilting his head back against the pillows. “Please,” he gasped, reaching up to grasp the headboard. “Please, baby…give me that sweet mouth of yours…please.” He groaned again as Patrick slowly, carefully slid his mouth down. “Oh, God…that’s it. That’s fucking it.”

Sliding back up, Pete’s cock a heavy velvet weight in his mouth, Patrick swirled his tongue around the flared head and lapped away the steady stream of fluid leaking out. Keeping one hand securely on Pete’s hip, he slid the other one over his thigh and between his legs, caressing his balls with his fingertips.

Letting out a hoarse shout, Pete suddenly came hard, shuddering as he flooded Patrick’s mouth. Coughing, Patrick managed to swallow everything before drawing away enough to catch his breath, resting his forehead against his lover’s thigh.

A hand slid through his hair, soothing him. “C’mere, baby,” Pete murmured as he slid his hand over to squeeze his lover’s shoulder. “Come up here. Let me kiss you.”

Patrick slid up the bed into Pete’s waiting arms, letting himself be drawn into another hungry kiss. “Was that okay?”

“Perfect,” Pete murmured, nuzzling Patrick’s cheek. “So beautiful and so fucking perfect. How did I get so lucky to have you?”

Patrick blushed. “I’m lucky, too,” he murmured, kissing him yet again. “I love you. So much.”

“Love you, too,” Pete said, letting his hands slide down Patrick’s side, pausing to cup his ass. “You okay with me touching you there?”

“You can touch me anywhere you want to, but I do appreciate you asking.” He sighed into the touch. “You can do other stuff, too.”

Pete’s eyes widened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Patrick looked up, biting his lower lip. “I trust you.”

Letting out a frustrated little groan, Pete gave him another hard kiss. “Fuck, Trick…if I wasn’t running on empty right now I’d have you screaming the house down.” Grasping the redhead’s shoulders, he rolled Patrick onto his back and hovered over him. “Rain check?”

“Definite rain check.” Patrick sighed as Pete reached down and wrapped a hand around his cock. “Oh…yes…”

“Yes,” Pete murmured as he stroked, whispering directly into his lover’s ear. “Gonna play you like I play my bass. Gonna make you sing for me like you do on stage. Come on, baby…let it go. I know you’re close. Let me hear you sing.” A moment later he was grinning as Patrick cried out and came all over his fingers. “That’s it. Love hearing you.”

“God,” Patrick breathed, burying his face in Pete’s shoulder. “Good…so good.”

“You are,” Pete agreed, wiping his hand on his discarded t-shirt before pulling the sheet over them. They were both asleep moments later.

                                                                        ******

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” Patrick asked much later as they snuggled close, trading idle caresses under the covers.

“Probably.” Pete kissed the top of Patrick’s head. “Which part in particular?”

“Making me scream the house down.”

“Absolutely.” Pete stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. “You might have to give me a day or two to recover, though. I think you took my brains with you when you sucked my dick.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Although I was feeling signs of life down there a little while ago,” Patrick commented with a smile as he lifted up the covers enough for a peek.

“You’re in my arms and we’re both naked,” Pete shot back good-naturedly. “I’d have to be dead not to have any kind of reaction.”

“Mmm. I know that feeling, too.” There was a pause. “And if I said that I wanted to wait a little longer before we…you know…tried that?”

Pete ran his fingers along Patrick’s bare shoulder. “I’d be okay with that, too,” he said, his voice turning soft. “As long as you need to be comfortable with you wanting me that way.”

“I am. At least in theory.” Patrick’s voice was quiet as well as he managed a smile. “I love you. And I do want you that way. I’m just…I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet…with everything.”

Pete nodded. “And if you never are, that’s okay, too. The last thing you are to me is a piece of ass.”

“And you aren’t, either.” There was another pause. “And you still want that from me?”

“Hell yeah,” Pete commented, still smiling. “But only when you’re ready for that, too. Plenty of other things we can do that don’t involve fucking. We haven’t even scratched the surface yet.” He rubbed his cheek against Patrick’s hair. “Although this? This is becoming my new favorite thing.”

“What? Staying in bed for half the day?”

“Snuggling with you.” Pete smiled as Patrick let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, I know. I’m turning into a sap.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Patrick said quietly. “And I always thought you were deep down.” There was another pause. “So…about the tying up thing…”

“Oh, that. It was during my Arma days, before I met you and the other guys. When I was really young and incredibly stupid,” Pete began, still caressing Patrick’s shoulder. “Met up with a fan after a show…blond, young and pretty, was all over me…you know the type.”

“Unfortunately.” Patrick’s voice was flat, dry. “Go on.”

Catching the tone of Patrick’s voice, Pete looked down at him. “Babe…you remember this was over fifteen years ago, right? And that I was young and stupid and thinking with my dick just about all the time?”

“I’m really trying to,” Patrick commented. “Go on, love.”

Wondering vaguely if this was a bad idea, Pete did as he was asked. “Well…we went back to my hole in the wall hotel room with a bottle of Jack – we had managed to make enough over the weekend to spring for them and not sleep on someone’s floor for once – and the minute we were both fairly drunk and down to our underwear, she pulls out a pair of handcuffs and asks me if I want to get a little kinky.”

“I think I can tell where this is going,” Patrick remarked. “No warning bells? No little voice yelling in your ear saying that this was a bad idea?”

A rueful little smile appeared on Pete’s face. “Babe, how long have you known me? You should know by now that I don’t have that little voice, have never in my life had it and probably never will.”

“Mmm…I should, shouldn’t I? And then I hear shit like this and I can’t help but be amazed.” Patrick pulled the sheet a little tighter around himself. “So go on.”

Settling the comforter around them both a little more securely, Pete went on. “So we…you know…with me cuffed to the headboard and a good time was had by all several times during the night. When she finally wrung me dry sometime about dawn and she was getting dressed I asked her to uncuff me.” He paused. “Instead, she gave me a kiss, grabbed my wallet and skipped out the door with me yelling my head off cursing her out the entire time.”

“When did everyone else find you?”

“That afternoon, when the housekeeper came in. She took one look at me stark naked and chained to the bed and started screaming. Woke me out of a drunken stupor and I started screaming right along with her.” He caught the smile Patrick was trying to hide and grinned as well. “You can laugh. It wasn’t funny then but it sure as hell is now.”

Patrick choked back a giggle. “Sorry.”

“No reason for you to be. I was the sexed up drunken moron.” Pete stole a kiss and continued. “Anyway…they finally had to dig up a pair of bolt cutters to get me loose since she took the damn key. The guys did manage to cover me up by this time and give me the ice bucket to piss in.” He paused. “And I was lucky in the end. The bitch only got my back up wallet, which had maybe twenty bucks in it. My regular wallet with all my cards and ID and cash was locked up in the equipment van in my guitar case.”

“You did get lucky.”

“About the only good thing that happened that night besides getting laid,” Pete said. “Haven’t been back to that rat hole of a hotel since. Which is probably for the best, since I can pretty much bet they have my picture up in the lobby with a caption under it that reads “Do Not Rent A Room To This Fucking Loser Ever Again”.” Heaving a sigh, Pete looked over at Patrick. “Anyway…that’s why I don’t like being restrained during sex in a nutshell.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Patrick’s voice was quiet. “Anything else I should be made aware of?”

“Nothing earth shattering. I like sex in the shower, partly because of the water and partly because of the mirrored tiles in the bathroom.” He shrugged, smiling a little. “Have a little bit of a voyeur kink,”

Patrick frowned a little. “Watching other people fuck, you mean?”

Pete shook his head. “Not that crazy. Just like…doing it in front of a mirror for instance. Or watching my lover jerk off in front of me until they come without me touching them. Stuff like that.” There was a pause. “Which we don’t ever have to do if you’re not comfortable with it. With anything.”

“I know.” A thoughtful look crossed the singer’s face. “A lot of that…just between us? I’d be okay with it.”

“Yeah?” Patrick nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He brushed another kiss along Patrick’s hairline. “What about you? Any little kinks I should know about?”

Blushing, Patrick shook his head and looked away. “No, nothing like that. I’m pretty boring when it comes down to things.”

“Sweetheart, the last thing you could ever be is boring.” Pete gave him another firm kiss for good measure, watching as Patrick squirmed a little. _Keeping something from me_ , he thought. “Sure you don’t want to tell me?” He leaned in, his tongue flicking over Patrick’s ear. “Because you know if you do, there’s a pretty good chance I’ll do it.” Anything, he had promised, which was largely true. While he did have lines that he wouldn’t cross for anyone, not even for Patrick, there were far less for him than for anyone else he had known before this.

Patrick smiled. “I know that, too.” There was a pause. “I like the shower idea.”

Pete resolved to get Patrick out of bed and into the bathroom as soon as he possibly could. Which, considering how comfortable he was just lying under the covers with Patrick secure in his arms, probably wouldn’t be as soon as he wanted to. He was surprisingly okay with that. “Can’t wait to see you all wet and naked,” he murmured into his lover’s ear, making him shiver in response. “Anything else, baby? I know there’s more. I can tell.”

Patrick didn’t say anything for a long moment, clearly considering things. Finally, he looked up. “Um…I need to think about it a little more. Rain check?”

“Rain check,” Pete said, sealing his answer with another kiss for good measure even as he wondered what it could be that had Patrick hesitating so. _Something embarrassing…he’ll think I’ll laugh_ , he mused, filing it away for the time being after resolving not to be a dick about whatever it was when he eventually found out.

“We should get up,” Patrick said next, breaking through Pete’s thoughts.

“Any particular reason why?”

“Getting hungry for actual food,” Patrick smiled. “You are, too. I can hear your stomach growling.”

Pete was about to deny it when his stomach rumbled loud enough for both of them to hear. He looked down, eyes wide. “Well, damn.”

Giggling, Patrick slid out of bed and tugged on Pete’s hand. “Come on. Up. Hemmy’s probably hungry again, too.”

Sighing, Pete let himself be pulled out of bed. “At least I’ve got a gorgeous view,” he said, his eyes sweeping over Patrick’s naked frame. He grinned as Patrick flushed. “And now you’re as red as your hair.”

“Fucking incorrigible,” Patrick muttered as he pulled underwear and a t-shirt out of the dresser and tossed them in Pete’s general direction. “Get dressed, Wentz.”

“Why?” Pete was still grinning. “My house. I can wander around naked if I want. You can, too.” He pulled Patrick back into his arms. “In fact, I’m insisting you do.”

Laughing, Patrick batted his hands away. “I’m not cooking anything naked and neither are you. With our luck we’d burn something important.”

Thinking about that for a moment, Pete nodded and drew away enough to pull on the clothes Patrick had thrown at him. “Point. So what about after cooking’s done?” Reaching into another drawer, he pulled out another t-shirt and boxers, handing them to Patrick. “We could go and play in the hot tub maybe? I’m sure it’s warmed up enough out there by now.”

_Incorrigible_ , Patrick thought fondly as he dressed. He gently pushed Pete out of the bedroom and toward the stairs. “Ask me again after you feed me.”

                                                                        ******

After checking the weather outside and finding that it was not only still chilly out but it had begun to rain, Pete decided to light the fireplace in the living room. Patrick curled up on the sofa to watch, dressed in his battered Batman flannel pajama bottoms and t-shirt, a cup of tea cradled in his hands. “Where did you learn how to do all that?” he asked, gesturing to the newspapers, the kindling, the box of long matches scattered around him.

“I used to watch my dad,” Pete explained as he struck a match. “He loves a fire during the winter. Lights one all the time.” Pete looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Said once that he wouldn’t mind living some place where it was cold all the time so he could have one every day. Mom put her foot down pretty quick on that idea. It gets cold enough in Chicago.”

Patrick smiled but didn’t say anything, his gaze dropping down to his tea cup and the blanket he had draped over his knees. He hadn’t expected Pete to mention his parents. “Are you going to tell them?” he blurted out suddenly.

Pete closed the iron grate in front of the fireplace and got to his feet, wiping his hands on his gray sweatpants. “Tell them what?”

Patrick looked up. “About me,” he clarified. “About us.”

“Thinking about it. Not sure how to yet.” Going over to the couch, Pete sat down next to him and took the empty cup out of the singer’s hands.  Putting it on the coffee table, he took Patrick’s hands in his.  “Although I’d be surprised if they didn’t already suspect something by now considering everything.” He paused, squeezing Patrick’s fingers. “Don’t you want me to?”

Patrick was silent for a long moment, his eyes dropping down to their joined hands. “Would they be happy for you if they knew?” he asked, not answering Pete’s question.

“I think so. I know they want me to be happy, Mom especially. She was worried about that after Ash left and I imploded.” He paused, smiling. “And they like you. Have ever since they met you.” The smile turned into a grin. “Call you a good influence on me.”

“God help me,” Patrick muttered. “If they think I have any influence on you at all they must be insane.”

“You have a lot of influence on me,” Pete corrected. “And you didn’t answer my question. Do you want me to tell them?”

Patrick shrugged, not looking at him. “They’re your parents,” he finally said, wishing he hadn’t asked in the first place. “It’s up to you.”

“It’s up to you, too, babe. You have as much say in this as I do.” Pete caressed the fingers in his keeping with his thumb. “What’s wrong?”

Patrick shook his head. “Nothing.”

Pete snorted. “Say that again and try looking at me this time.” When Patrick remained silent he tried again. “Trick…sweetheart…if you want to keep this quiet for now…for however long you want, really…I’m okay with that.”

Patrick looked up. “You are? Really?”

Pete nodded. “When you’re ready, like everything else. It’s only been a little over two weeks since everything’s been turned upside down and sideways for you. You’re gonna need time and a hell of a lot longer that what you’ve had so far.” He paused. “And maybe we both do. Time just for us.”

Closing his eyes, Patrick leaned against Pete and let out a sigh. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Definitely okay.” Sliding his arm around Patrick, he buried a kiss in his hair. “You should see what the firelight is doing to your hair.”

Patrick couldn’t help smiling at that. “You’re changing the subject.”

“From what I’m hearing, I think you want me to.” Pete’s voice was soft, gentle. “We can keep talking about it if you want to, though. Or we can just sit and watch the fire for a while. Your call.”

_You need to tell him_ , Dr. Anne’s voice said, echoing in Patrick’s head. _If you want him to help you, to understand…he needs to know everything._

_Not now_ , Patrick thought, his heart aching as he remembered the cold, harsh words that had been directed at him, the same words that had echoed in his head for the past few painful months. _I will, I swear I will…but I can’t now. It still hurts too much._ Patrick turned enough to bury his face in Pete’s shoulder, closing his eyes against the sting of tears. Pete seeing the tears would mean questions, questions he knew he wasn’t up to answering.

“Pattycakes?” Pete began brushing his fingers through Patrick’s hair. “Baby, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Patrick managed to get out, forcing his voice to remain steady and cursing at himself when it didn’t. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…can we just sit here for a while?” He took a deep, shaky breath. “And just sit?”

“Sure,” Pete said softly. “For as long as you want.” He continued to run his fingers through Patrick’s hair, offering what comfort he could in the form of his touch.

Gratefully, Patrick took it, letting himself relax even further into Pete’s embrace. Soon, between the combination of the fire’s heat and Pete’s gentle caresses, he drifted off to sleep.

Feeling Patrick’s weight settle against him, Pete looked down, a fond smile crossing his face. _He looked so peaceful,_ he thought fondly, turning enough to let Patrick relax further into his arms, His smile turned into a worried little frown, however, when he thought about the conversation they had just had and how upset it had made Patrick. _Something happened with his mom_ , he guessed. _But from everything I’ve seen, he hasn’t talked to her since he’s been here. I don’t think he did during the last leg of the tour, either._ Which was strange, to say the least.

_Because they’ve always been close_ , Pete thought as he continued to stroke Patrick’s hair. _Ever since his dad left. So going so long in between phone calls…something’s definitely wrong._ A memory suddenly flashed through his head – Patrick reaching for his phone and stopping halfway, a look that could only be described as anguish appearing on his face as he drew his hand back and left his phone where it was.

_And he’s always depressed after. He either goes and hides or he fakes a smile and tells me everything’s fine_ , Pete mused, adding in what Patrick had just asked about his parents. The answer he was coming up with was one he wasn’t liking at all.

_Add Elisa in with that…Oh, God, is that why?_ One finger ghosted over the still angry red line bisecting Patrick’s wrist as he blinked back tears. _If they both pushed him away…_ Patrick losing his girlfriend was one thing, but if he had lost his mother as well…

_I have to get him to talk about all this_ , Pete decided as he brushed another kiss against Patrick’s forehead. _I can think it’s one reason or another all I want, but until he tells me, I don’t know dick. And as long as I don’t know dick, I can’t help him worth a damn. And I fucking want to. He needs me to, I think._ But how to broach the subject without upsetting Patrick, that would be the tricky part. And he honestly didn’t know how he was going to do that knowing how Patrick was.

_He’s still so fragile_ , Pete mused, gazing down at the singer _. One wrong word and he could be right back where we fucking started with me holding his hand in a hospital room. Or worse._ Pete pushed that thought aside almost immediately with a shake of his head. _No. He wouldn’t. Not now. Not when he knows how much I love him. As long as he’s sure of that, he’s safe enough._

Pete let out a heavy sigh. _He’s hurting, though. And things won’t get better as long as he’s hurting. Getting him to talk about things with Dr. Anne will help things along eventually, but that’s not enough._ Pete continued to run his fingers through Patrick’s hair, smiling when he shifted into his touch and cuddled closer. _Time like this, he needs his mom. God knows I needed mine._

He glanced down at the phone lying silently on the coffee table. _Tomorrow_ , he decided, finally making up his mind. _He’s going to be fucking pissed at me for poking my nose into things, but it can’t go on like this._ He glanced up at the crackling fire. _I‘ll try calling his mom tomorrow, see what she says. Maybe she can tell me what the fuck’s going on in his head, because right now I don’t have a fucking clue._ He hated going behind Patrick’s back, especially since he had promised not to say anything, but he didn’t know what else to do and Patrick wasn’t giving him much of s choice.

He looked down at the man sleeping peacefully in his arms. “I’ll fix this,” he whispered. “I swear to God I’ll do everything I can fix this.” Leaning down, he brushed a kiss against Patrick’s temple before settling further into the couch cushions and focusing on the crackling flames.

                                                                        *****

“You okay, Lunchbox?” Pete asked the next day as they waited together in Dr. Anne’s office. He squeezed the hand he was holding for good measure. “You’re awfully quiet over there.”

Managing a wan smile, Patrick nodded. “Fine. Why?”

Pete made a show of rolling his eyes. “You’re so pale I can almost see through you and your hand is shaking,” he said softly, moving a little closer so their shoulders touched. “Try again, babe.”

The smile vanished as Patrick bit his lip and looked down. “Little nervous,” he finally admitted. “Wondering what she’s going to ask me.”

Pete caressed his lover’s clutching fingers with his thumb. “You know whatever you tell her stays between the two of you, right?” he asked. “And you don’t have to tell her anything you don’t want to. She’s pretty good with no meaning no. Or no meaning not just now.”

“I know. She said as much last time.” There was a pause, followed by a sigh. “I didn’t say it made any kind of sense. And you know how I am with personal stuff.”

“Yeah.” Patrick was well known for keeping things close to the vest when he wanted to. _Elisa,_ Pete thought. _His mom._ He still didn’t know the whole story there; he had fallen asleep on the couch not long after Patrick and neither one of them had woken up until Hemmy had climbed into their laps to lick their faces clean at around noon. That in turn had caused a lot of scrambling to make their appointments on time. Which meant that Pete hadn’t found a chance to call Patrick’s mom.

_Later this afternoon maybe_ , Pete promised himself, pushing the thought aside for the time being. _Tonight if I don’t get a chance then. But definitely soon._ “And she wouldn’t ask if she didn’t really need to know,” he added.

“I know that, too,” Patrick sighed, looking down at their joined hands. “I don’t know why this is making me so crazy.”

_You’re used to being in control. And you’re not with this,_ Pete thought, remembering how Patrick had been before the hiatus. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut; he could tell by the look on Patrick’s face that the singer wouldn’t appreciate the observation just now.

_But I think I know what will help,_ he thought as he stood up and tugged on Patrick’s hand. “C’mere.”

Patrick stood up and went willingly into Pete’s arms, resting his forehead against the bassist’s. “Mmm,” he hummed as he closed his eyes, taking the mingled scent of coffee, cologne and Pete’s natural musk. The combination immediately relaxed him and he couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his face.

Pete smiled as well. “Better, baby?”

“Better,” Patrick said with a sigh. “You always know what I need without me asking. How do you do that?”

“Gotten pretty good at translating you over the years,” Pete said as he leaned up enough to kiss his forehead. “And you do the same for me. I can’t count how many times you’ve done stuff like this, been my anchor.” There was a pause. “Some days…it was all I had.”

“I remember.” The endless days up one interstate and down another in a crowded tour bus or the back of that battered old van, the nights spent clinging to each other after shows, with Pete wide awake and strung out on anxiety and pills and Patrick singing to him until he was hoarse, doing anything he could think of to try and get the bassist to close his eyes and rest, or even just stay still longer than five minutes. The too few times it had worked and the too many times it hadn’t. Those days were long gone, but the memories of them lingered.

Pete ran a hand up and down Patrick’s back, relief flooding through him when the singer relaxed even further. “That’s it, baby. I got you,” he murmured. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Yes, but it’s always nice to hear.” Patrick drew away enough so their eyes could meet. “And I love you, too.” He let Pete draw him into a lingering kiss.

They were both so involved with each other that neither of them noticed Dr. Anne come out of her office and into the reception area until she spoke. “Gentlemen,” she said, smiling.

They broke apart, both of them blushing. “Sorry,” Pete said, grinning.

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Dr. Anne said wryly. “Unless you’re sorry you got caught?”

“Wasn’t really trying to hide things,” Pete said, keeping an arm around Patrick. He glanced over at the still blushing redhead. “Sorry for embarrassing you.”

“Pete, if you apologized every time you embarrassed me that’s all you’d ever do,” Patrick replied tartly, straightening his crooked glasses for good measure.

“Point taken.” Pete turned his attention to Lindsey, who was trying to slip her phone back into her purse without anyone noticing. “And you…delete it. Now.”

She pouted. “But you two look so cute!” she protested. “And I won’t show anyone. I promise!”

“And I believe you,” Pete said, his voice suddenly serious. “But how many phones did you lose last year?” He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “Lindsey, you know if it was just me I wouldn’t care.” He tightened his hold on Patrick’s shoulder, squeezing it. “But it’s not just me.”

Lindsey took one look at Patrick biting his lip and reached for her purse. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. And I’m sorry for sneaking it. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She pulled out her phone, the case decorated with a bright red Clandestine bat heart sticker on the back of it.

“Can I see it?” Patrick asked unexpectedly, drawing away from Pete a little. He smiled. “I promise. You’ll get it back in one piece.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that,” she said, smiling as well as she handed it over. “I am sorry. I should’ve asked.”

Patrick was about to wave off the apology when he stopped, his heart skipping a beat at the sight. “Oh,” he breathed, taking a long look at the perfect kiss frozen forever in time.

Standing in back of him, Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick’s waist and looked over his shoulder. His eyes went wide as his own breath caught in his throat. “Beautiful,” he murmured, kissing Patrick’s cheek.

Because it was all there for anyone to see, how he felt about Patrick. He knew it would be; he had never been good at hiding his feelings. What Pete hadn’t expected to see was the same depth of feeling on Patrick’s face.

_And that’s why it’s so dangerous_ , Pete thought with a tinge of regret. _He’s still unsure about everything. If something like that got out now…before either of us were ready to deal with the fallout…_ He didn’t finish the thought, not wanting to even consider the possibility.

It was a beautiful image, though.

“I can send it to you if you want,” Lindsey said quietly, interrupting their thoughts.

Patrick looked over his shoulder at Pete, who shrugged. “Your call, babe.”

Patrick, however, shook his head. “You said it yourself, love. I’m not the only one in the picture.” After another long moment, Patrick handed the phone back with a smile. “You can delete it.”

Lindsey’s finger poised over the delete button. “You sure?”

The singer nodded. “I’m sure. I don’t need a picture.” He put a hand over the ones around his waist, leaning back into Pete’s embrace. “I’ve got the real thing right here.”

Patrick felt Pete bury his face in his shoulder even as Lindsey giggled. “You should see how red his face is,” she said.

“I can imagine.” He squeezed Pete’s fingers. “Okay back there?”

“Yeah. Just…yeah.” There was a pause. “I’m supposed to say stuff like that. Not you.”

“Well, maybe it’s time I started,” Patrick said, his voice soft. “You need to hear it just as much as I do, I think.” He turned back to Lindsey. “Go ahead. Please.”

After tapping a few buttons, Lindsey held out her phone. It read “Image deleted. Trash emptied.” “And I am sorry.”

“I understand why. Something like that…it was a little too tempting. We’ll try to tone it down from now on.” Patrick paused, glancing over his shoulder at Pete. “Okay?”

Pete lifted his head up. “Yeah.” He looked over at Dr. Anne. “Sorry for holding things up.”

She shook her head again, her long earrings sparkling with the movement. “You two are my last appointments for the day and there’s a good reason for that,” she said, still smiling. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Pete pulled away reluctantly, but not before giving Patrick another kiss. “See you when you get out, babe,” he said, smiling as well. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Patrick disappeared into Dr. Anne’s office, the psychiatrist closing the door behind them both.

Patrick sat down in one of the chairs across from Dr. Anne’s desk, twisting his fingers together as he watched her close the door and come over. “A lot of people would have fired Lindsey for what she did,” he commented.

She sat down in the chair in front of him. “I knew Pete saw her and would say something,” she said. “And truthfully? This is her first offense. Usually she’s not interested in who comes to the office enough to want photos.” She paused. “And I would have made sure it was deleted before you both left.”

Patrick nodded. “I know you would have,” he said. “And I honestly don’t mind fans taking photos most of the time. It’s just…that one…”

“Was highly personal and would have done both you and Pete a great deal of harm if it had ever come out, even in this day and age,” she finished. “I appreciate the way you handled it. Most people would’ve gotten angry.”

Patrick shrugged. “I’ve never been most people. And she’s young. I did my share of stupid things when I was young.” He looked down at his lap. “Even more not so young. So I can understand.”

Dr. Anne nodded again. “You seem a little nervous today.”

Patrick looked up and managed a smile. “A little afraid about what you’re going to ask me.”

“I usually save the uncomfortable and embarrassing questions for when you’ve been seeing me for a while,” she said, still smiling. “When we have a little more trust between us. And when I can tell a bit better if you’re lying to me.”

“Pete says one of my tells is that I don’t look at him when I do,” Patrick said, smiling a little. “That might just be with him, though. I don’t know.”

“Do you lie to him a lot?”

Patrick shook his head. “Not really. With Pete, it’s mostly the “I’m fine” kind of lies when I’m not, and he always calls me on those, so I end up telling him the truth anyway.” He paused. “And he does the same thing.”

“Do you call him on it, too?”

“Sometimes.” He paused. “It’s gotten to the point where I can tell if he wants to talk about it or not. If he does, then I start pushing. But sometimes it’s better if I leave him alone.”

She nodded in understanding. “Have you told him yet?”

Patrick immediately shook his head. “Not yet,” he admitted. “I can’t seem to find the words.” He let out a sigh. “I know I said I would…”

“And I said to you it didn’t have to be immediately,” Dr. Anne said. “This is a painful subject for you on several different levels. And it’s going to continue to be for some time to come.” There was a pause. “Pete is your support system though.”

“And a burden shared is a burden made lighter? That kind of thing?”

She nodded. “Most of the time.”

Patrick was silent for a moment. “It’s just…I don’t like seeing him angry. And I think he would be with this.” He paused. “He doesn’t like it if he thinks people are treating me badly.”

“He loves you very much and from what I’ve seen he’s very loyal to the people he loves. That doesn’t surprise me,” Dr. Anne said with a small smile. “Has he been angry about things like that before?”

Patrick nodded. “I used to be a lot heavier than I am now. Before the hiatus with the band and after my first girlfriend and I broke up, I was over 200 pounds. Add in sideburns down to here,” He indicated spots more than halfway down his face. “and my glasses and it wasn’t a pretty picture.”

“From what I remember Pete telling me about that time, you were all under a lot of stress,” Dr. Anne commented.

Patrick nodded. “For a whole lot of reasons. Eating was one of my coping mechanisms. One of the few things I could control.”

“It used to be one of mine as well,” Dr. Anne said, smiling. “After my husband passed, I hid myself away for over a year. Spent my time crying over bad Harlequins and soap operas while eating anything within reach. When I finally came out of the fog I was over 300 pounds and on my way to congestive heart failure.”

“I was pre-diabetic at 25 years old. High blood pressure, bad cholesterol. And I have mild asthma on top of everything, which wasn’t so mild with all the weight I was carrying.” Patrick let out a sigh. “Used to get out of breath just walking up a flight of stairs.”

She nodded in understanding. “I was using a cane by the end of things.” There was a pause. “What was your preferred poison?”

“Fried chicken. Pancakes. Pizza. For me, it was more real food than snacks or sweet things. Champagne.” He smiled a little. “By that time I could afford to get drunk on the really good stuff. What about you?”

“Cupcakes. Cookies. Ice cream. I used to dip the cookies into the ice cream and eat them that way. Just about anything with peanut butter in it,” she answered. “I can’t keep any of that in the house any longer. Too much of a temptation.”

“Yeah. I’m like that with the fried chicken and the champagne. It’s a little harder with pizza. We all eat it on the road a lot. But I’ve learned to control my portions.” A smile appeared on Patrick’s face. “And pancakes are my comfort food. I only eat them when I get stressed out now. And I haven’t been as much as I used to be.”

She nodded. “So when you were heavier, there used to be comments made?”

Patrick nodded as well. “All the time. And not just about my weight. My singing was a big target, too. Especially for the critics.” He paused. “Pete…he used to go off on them all the time, telling them to shut up and fuck off and how I was better than they ever would be. He’d say the same to me all the time, too. Especially if he noticed that I was upset about it. And some of the craziest things he did, he did to get my mind off it, get me laughing.” There was a long pause. “I missed that during the hiatus. I mean, I missed a lot of things…and God knows we needed the break from each other…but I missed that the most, I think. Pete making me laugh.”

“That much love, and you think he’d be angry with you still?”

Patrick shook his head. “Not angry at me. Angry for me. Big difference.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “The other day, we had a fight about Elisa and some of the things I used to do for her. He thought she was using me, that she hadn’t been giving the option of saying no.”

“Was she?”

Patrick shrugged. “I thought she was, but I don’t think it sounded that way to Pete. He went ballistic, calling it abuse. And he got even angrier when I asked him to let it go.”

“Why did you?”

“Because it’s over and done with and she’s gone. Out of my life. Yelling at her isn’t going to bring her back and I wouldn’t want her back even if it did.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry we didn’t part friends after everything. I did love her. But it’s over. She made her choice and I’m making mine now with Pete.” He let out another heavy sigh. “Maybe…maybe I’m just tired of fighting. Dragging everything out into the open again would mean fighting with her and I had enough of that when we were together.”

Her head tilted as she listened. “Did you fight a lot with Elisa?”

“Not in the beginning, but we met during the hiatus when I was home more. After Fall Out Boy got back together and we started touring more, when I started spending more time with Pete…that’s when it really started.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “I think…she was jealous, maybe?”

She nodded. “It sounds like it, if the time you used to spend with her became time you spent with the band, with Pete.” She paused. “And you had just started speaking with all of them again, hadn’t you?”

“Yeah. Coming back together after so long…it was still pretty fragile, the trust between all of us. I missed that, too…making music with them.” He sighed. “I tried explaining that to Elisa, but I don’t think she got it.”

“From what you’re telling me, she wouldn’t have been happy with anything that took you away from her,” Dr. Anne said, leaning back in her chair as well. “Pete was a convenient excuse.” She paused. “Also…it wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No, it wasn’t. You’re not responsible for whatever Elsa was feeling.” She paused. “And you told me that you hadn’t even realized how you felt about Pete until she pointed it out to you.”

“I hadn’t.” A grimace crossed the singer’s face. “I can be pretty dense with some things.”

“I wouldn’t call it dense,” she shaking her head. “Not very self-aware, maybe. Some people think about others so much that they forget to think about themselves and their needs.” She paused. “Sounds about right to you?”

“Sounds like what I say to Pete half the time,” Patrick said. “You can’t take care of anyone else if you don’t take care of yourself first.”

“No, you can’t.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall. “We should wrap this up so I can get your other half in here. Was there anything specific you wanted to ask me about before we call it a day?”

Patrick shook his head. “Not that I can think of right now, no.” He smiled a little. “I’m sure I’ll have a dozen questions the minute I walk out of here, though.”

“Most everyone does. If it’s something you feel can’t wait until your next session, you’re more than welcome to call. Pete has both my numbers – here and my cell.” She paused. “How are the meds? Are you still tired?”

“Some, but it’s getting better. And taking a nap in the middle of the day isn’t a bad thing.” He smiled. “It’s even better if I can get Pete to lie down with me. He still doesn’t sleep as much or as well as he should.”

“And there’s a perfect example of worrying about other people before you worry about yourself right there,” Dr. Anne pointed out. “So I have a little assignment for you before your next session. I want you to try and be a little selfish. Because I’m guessing you’ve been letting Pete make most of the decisions lately and just going along with things. Am I right?”

Patrick suddenly blushed as he remembered their lovemaking from the night before. “Well…not all of them,” he admitted. “I mean…the other night when we were…you know…he was perfectly fine with doing what I wanted to do.” He paused, swallowing hard. “Do you…you don’t need to know what, do you?”

Smiling, she shook her head. “Not if the equipment isn’t malfunctioning, no. The medication you’re on, it can affect your libido over time. If you begin having problems, you should let me know.”

Patrick nodded, still blushing. “Everything’s fine for now, but I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

Laughing, she stood up. “Come on. I’m through embarrassing you for one day. It’s your boyfriend’s turn.”

“Good luck with that,” Patrick said as he stood up as well. “I don’t think much does anymore.”

She ushered him out of the office and down the hall. “Oh, I think I can come up with a few things.”

Pete looked up from his phone when he heard the door open, grinning as Patrick stepped out. “Hey you,” he said, standing up.

Patrick smiled as well. “Hey you.” He immediately went into Pete’s arms and stole a kiss. “Behaving yourself?”

“For the most part.” Pete nuzzled his ear. “Your cheeks are all red. Dr. Anne asking you all sorts of embarrassing questions?”

“Yes,” Dr. Anne answered before Patrick could. “And now it’s your turn.”

Nodding, Pete turned his attention back to Patrick. “I’ll be back,” he said, stealing another kiss before letting go. “Love you.”

“Love you.” He watched Dr. Anne and Pete go back, waiting until the closed behind them before he took Pete’s seat and dug his phone out of his back pocket.

                                                            *******

They sat down across from one another in front of Dr. Anne’s desk. “So…you seem a lot happier than when I last saw you,” she said, smiling as she smoothed the wrinkles out of her skirt.

Pete grinned. “Guy you just saw has a lot to do with that,” he said, leaning back in his chair. The smile faded as a look of concern crossed his face. “How is he doing, by the way?”

Dr. Anne shook his head. “Pete, you know I can’t discuss that with you.”

Sighing, Pete rubbed the back of his neck. “I know, I know. It’s just…he won’t say if he’s hurting because he doesn’t want to be a bother. And for the most part he seems happy. I just wanted to know if you noticed anything…you know…not happy about him.”

She didn’t answer the question, asking one instead. “You worry about him a great deal, don’t you?”

“Considering everything he’s been through the past few months, I think I’m a little justified to be. And I know I don’t know half of it, otherwise I’d probably be even more worried than I fucking am.” He paused. “Should I be?”

Dr. Anne frowned, shaking her head. “Pete…”

“Okay, okay. No more Patrick questions. I promise. Cross my heart.” Pete made an x over his chest. “And I’ll try not to worry about him so much, especially since he’s a grown man and perfectly able to take care of himself.”

Dr. Anne’s frown turned into an amused little smile. “It sounds like you’ve had this argument before with someone.”

“Joe,” Pete said, a wry little smile on his own face. “Practically word for word, too. He calls me a mother hen.”

“You’re allowed to worry about the people you love,” Dr. Anne commented. “Especially if they’re having a hard time.”

“I’ll tell Joe you said that the next time I talk to him.” Pete was silent for a moment before continuing. “And Patrick still is. Even I can see that and I’m oblivious to most things.”

“Not about important things,” Dr. Anne corrected, her voice kind. “And I don’t think you are about Patrick things either.”

“Pretty much the same thing nowadays.” There was a pause. “We had a fight the other day.” When she nodded, he gave her a look. “He told you?”

“He did,” she answered. “Now I want to hear about it from you.”

Pete let out a heavy sigh. “The other night…after we came home from here…he made this comment while I was helping him get ready for bed. He was so tired…I know he wouldn’t have made it if he had been aware of anything.” He ran a hand through his dark hair before continuing. “He kept saying that he just wanted to sleep, that he didn’t want to do anything else. I told him that was fine, of course it was fine, I’d never force him to do anything. And he said,” He swallowed hard and went on, forcing the words out. “He said he knew that. That I wasn’t Elisa.”

Dr. Anne winced, suddenly understanding what Patrick had meant about Elisa from his own therapy session. “You think she was forcing him to have sex?”

There was a long pause. “I think that’s what it sounded like to me, but he says no, that he could’ve said no to her any time he didn’t want to do stuff.” Pete shrugged. “But it’s Patrick. He doesn’t, especially if he thinks you need whatever it is you’re asking for and he can do something about it, you know?” At Dr. Anne’s nod, he continued. “He’s really amazing with that. Since the very first day I met him.”

She nodded again, smiling. “He strikes me as that type of person.”

“He is. You should see him with the fans. He’ll talk to them all day if you give him the chance to.” He paused, his grin vanishing when he got back to the subject at hand. “Anyway, when I asked him about it the next morning, he explained why. Turns out Elisa’s insomnia rivals mine and regular orgasms helped her sleep. So he used to…you know…take care of things for her.”

Dr. Anne was silent for a moment. “I can see why you would consider that abuse,” she finally said. “Technically, it **is** consensual…”

Pete snorted. “Technically,” he muttered, the anger evident in his voice. “That’s a big part of what pissed me off, the technically bit.”

“And the rest?” Dr. Anne prompted.

“That he was okay with it. More than that, he didn’t see what was so wrong with what she did. What she made him do just about every fucking day. And he really didn’t get why I was so pissed about it.” There was a pause. “He told me to let it go. His exact words. Said it was over and done with and he didn’t want to think about it anymore,” He let out a heavy sigh. “That’s about when I started yelling.”

“What did you say?”

“That I didn’t understand. That the Patrick I knew would’ve never put up with that shit.” Pete shook his head. “Then he started going on about everything being all his fault and leaving her alone all the time and how he fucking **deserved** whatever she did to him and when I asked him how in the hell he could ever fucking think that, he wouldn’t say. Turned right into a motherfucking clam.” Pete sagged in his chair, his shoulders slumping. “You said I could tell you when I was ready. That’s what he said to me, fighting back tears the whole time.” He ran a hand over his face. “I felt like the biggest douchebag in the world ever, because that was one of the first things I said to him when he got out of the hospital, that he could talk about everything when he was ready and not before.” He let out another ragged sigh, shaking his head. “I fucking blew it.”

“You couldn’t have blown it too badly considering what I saw in the waiting room,” Dr. Anne said gently.

“Oh, I apologized. Came this close,” Pete held his thumb and forefinger about a half an inch apart. “to getting on my fucking knees and begging him to forgive me. But before I could he apologized, too. And then we had a do over.”

Dr. Anne’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Do over?”

Pete suddenly grinned. “Went back to bed. Went back to sleep after a while, too.”

“Ah.” She nodded in understanding. “And that settled things?”

“For the most part. And I guess for the time being. He didn’t mention Elisa after that and I sure as fuck didn’t bring it up again.” A grimace suddenly crossed his face. “No…I ended up putting my foot in it in a completely different way later that same night.”

Dr. Anne’s eyes widened. “There’s more?”

Pete snorted again. “With me and how much I fuck things up? There’s always fucking more.” Sitting up in his chair, he leaned forward a little. “We ended up on the couch after dinner with him watching me make a fire. And out of the blue he asks me if my folks would be okay with us…you know…being us.” He paused. “I remember saying something like they probably thought we had been together for years considering how we were around each other, so telling them wouldn’t be a shock and they’d probably be happy since they like him so much.” He suddenly smiled. “They really do like him. Mom always asks about him and bakes him his favorite cookies for his birthday and everything.”

“He is very likable,” she said with a smile.

“Yeah.” He went on. “Anyway…when I said that, he got this look on his face. Devastated. But when I asked him what was wrong all he did was shake his head and curl up into a ball.” He sighed. “And I’ve been seeing that look on his face more and more lately.”

“In what context?”

“He’ll reach for his phone and sometimes he’ll get as far as picking it up before he stops and look at it with that same look on his face. Then he’ll put it down or shove it in his pocket without calling anyone. And he doesn’t say one word about it. Not one fucking word.” He paused. “And I know it has something to do with his mom. I just know it does.”

She tilted her head. “How do you know?”

Pete leaned forward even more, resting his elbows on his knees. “Patrick’s always been real close to his mom. Goes to see her on tour breaks, calls her every couple days, she comes to the shows and backstage whenever we’re close by, that kind of thing.” A worried little frown appeared on his face. “But ever since he came back from that last break, he hasn’t called her. Not once.”

“And that’s unusual for him?”

“Fuck yeah. And he hasn’t said a word about it.” Pete paused, suddenly remembering. “Except after he…when he was in the hospital, I texted him and asked if he wanted me to call her.” He bit his lip. “I know after I tried…that was a big help, going home and being babied for a while, having my mom worry about me.” He sighed and went on. “He shot me down right off. Made me promise not to call her even. And when I asked why later, he said he was fine and that he didn’t want to worry her.”

Dr. Anne frowned. “Granted, I don’t know him as well as you do yet, but that does sound worrisome.”

Pete let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. For a minute there I thought for sure I was going crazy.” He smiled. “Well, crazier, anyway.” He paused. “So I don’t know what to do. I want to call her and ask what the hell happened, but I don’t want to go behind Patrick’s back. He trusts me and it took a while to get that trust back after everything that happened before. You know?”

“And you don’t want to lose that,” Dr. Anne said, nodding. “Understandable.”

“Yeah.” Pete ran a hand over his hair. “But I don’t want to lose him, either. And I’m afraid…” Pete let out a long, shuddering sigh before continuing. “I’m just so fucking afraid that if this goes on, I will.” Pete shook his head. “The look on his face every time he picks up that phone and puts it back down again…it scares the living hell out of me. The only thing that scared me more was seeing him in that shower stall.”

Dr. Anne’s voice was quiet as she asked, “You’re afraid he might try again?”

Pete was silent for a long moment before continuing. “I don’t know,” he finally said, his voice soft as well. “I want to say no. I know he loves me and I know he knows that if there’s anything I can do for him, I will. Whatever he needs. He knows that. He knows how much I love him.” There was a pause. “I just…I can’t lose him. Not when I just got him back. And I don’t have a clue about what to do.”

Silence. Finally, Dr. Anne leaned forward enough to put a beringed hand on Pete’s knee. “I think you need to do whatever it takes to give you peace of mind,” she said, her voice soft. “And I think that if Patrick is angry about it? If he questions you about things? Then you need to tell him what you just told me.”

Pete stared at her for a moment before nodding. “Yeah…okay. Yeah.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

“You’re the one who is going to be doing the heavy lifting, not me,” she said with a smile as she leaned back in her chair. “And the two of you need to talk about a lot of things. Otherwise the fights between you two are going to get worse.”

“They couldn’t possibly get as bad as they were during _Folie_ ,” Pete commented, grimacing. “By the end of things we weren’t even speaking to each other. But you’re right. I don’t want to let things get that bad. Not ever again.”

“From what you’ve been telling me the entire band has gotten better at communicating with one another,” Dr. Anne commented as she got up from her chair. “Not just you and Patrick.”

Pete nodded as he got up as well. “We all needed the break,” he acknowledged. “I know that now. And I’m fine with how things worked out. Back then, I wasn’t so much for a lot of reasons. You know that.”

She nodded in understanding; they had talked about his feelings concerning the band’s hiatus countless times before. “How are you on your meds?”

“Pretty even keel,” Pete said, gesturing with his hands. “No bottomless pit lows, no manic highs.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “I think…maybe worrying about Patrick so much the past few weeks…I’m not thinking about myself so much? Not brooding over little stuff and big stuff and stuff I don’t have any control over?”

“You have someone to look after, someone who needs you calm and steady,” Dr. Anne said as they headed for the door. She suddenly smiled. “Like Joe said…mother hen.”

A wry smile crossed Pete’s face. “I’m never going to hear the end of that, am I?”

“Not for a while, no.”

Pete opened the door leading to the waiting room and stepped out, his breath catching in his throat when Patrick looked up from his phone. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, grinning when Patrick blushed.

“Hey yourself.” Getting up, he stepped into Pete’s outstretched arms. “Everything okay?”

“Definitely now,” Pete said, enjoying the embrace for a moment before burying a kiss in his lover’s bright hair. “Early dinner maybe? That place you like is only a couple blocks down. We could walk it.” Drawing away a little, Pete took one look at the strained, tired look on the younger man’s face and immediately amended his request. “Or we could just go home and call for delivery. Up to you.”

Patrick was about to say that it didn’t matter to him, he was fine with either when what Dr. Anne had said to him came to mind. _It’s okay to be a little selfish,_ he thought. _But it’s also okay to compromise._ “Maybe walking down and getting it go?” he suggested. Sighing, he rested his head on Pete’s broad shoulder. “I really do like it there and I haven’t been in a while, but I’m not feeling too social right now.”

“Mmm…I’m not so much either. And it’s bound to be crowded even this early.” He dug in his pocket for his phone. “Call in an order on the way? That way we won’t have to wait and we can just head home after.” At Patrick’s nod, Pete gave him another kiss before looking up at Dr. Anne. “Same time next week?”

She nodded. “Patrick, I’ll see you Tuesday.”

He nodded as well. “Thanks,” he said, managing a smile before he let Pete usher him out the door and down the stairs.

                                                                        *****


	3. Chapter 3

After dinner, Patrick settled on the couch, smiling as he once again watched Pete light another fire. “You like having a fire, don’t you?” he commented as he watched. It was a side to Pete he hadn’t considered before.

“When it’s cold. Snuggling near a fire has always been one of my favorite things.” Closing the grate, Pete wiped his hands on his jeans before holding one out to Patrick. “C’mere.”

Kicking off his shoes and socks, Patrick padded over and sank down next to Pete on the rug. Grasping, Pete’s hand, he held the other one out toward the flames. “Mmm…this is nice.”

“Yeah.” Pete watched as Patrick leaned a little closer, the firelight not only making his skin glow but turning his hair the color of a newly minted penny. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured.

Throwing him a sideways glance, Patrick blushed. “So are you,” he murmured as well before moving closer. He slid his arm around Pete’s shoulders. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Pete’s eyes widened as he slid his own arms around Patrick’s waist. “I don’t know. Is it working?”

“Maybe.” Patrick was smiling. “I remember what you said our first night together. About making love in front of the fire.” He slid a hand down over Pete’s chest before grasping the hem of his shirt. “You really liked that idea.”

Pete nodded. “I did. Still do.” He leaned closer, brushing a kiss against Patrick’s lips. “But we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. I’m fine with just sitting here and holding you.”

_Such a good heart_ , Patrick thought, still smiling. _Generous heart. What did I do to deserve you?_ “And if I said I wasn’t?” he asked, his voice soft. Sliding a hand under Pete’s shirt, he brushed his fingers over the bassist’s belly. “If I wanted more?”

Pete shivered, the light caress and whispered words turning him on like nothing he had ever felt before. “Anything,” he breathed before giving Patrick another, more firmer kiss. “Anything you want. I’m all yours.”

Patrick brushed a kiss along Pete’s cheek, nuzzling his ear. “What do you want?”

“You,” was the immediate gasped reply. “I want you. Any way you’ll let me have you.” He slid one hand up Patrick’s back to tangle in the singer’s hair. “So much, Trick. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you, too.” They came together in another tongue-tangling kiss.

When they broke apart they were both breathless. “Let me…can I?” Pete gasped as he fumbled with Patrick’s shirt buttons. “Want you naked in front of the fire…want to make love to you.”

Patrick shivered as well. “God, yes,” he breathed, pulling Pete’s shirt upward off his body, over his head and tossing it in the direction of the couch. “Please…want you like that. More than anything.”

Soon, they were both naked and trading kisses back and forth, Pete’s hands wandering over Patrick’s body as the singer clutched at his lover’s tattooed arms, holding him close. He gasped as guitar-callused hands slid over his ass. “You want that?” he managed to get out, his eyes wide. “You want me to…us to…” He didn’t finish.

“I would absolutely love to be buried in you,” Pete murmured in his ear. “It would be perfect…so sweet and hot and tight.” He nipped at Patrick’s earlobe, drawing out a gasp in response. “And I can’t wait to be loving on you like that. Being in you…making you scream my name when you come.” There was a pause as Pete deliberately drew his hands away. “But not now.”

Patrick blinked. “What? Why?”

Pete smiled as he brushed his fingers over Patrick’s face. “You look so fucking cute confused, did you know that?”

Patrick suddenly frowned, drawing away a little. “And you’re trying to distract me.”

“Okay…okay.” Kissing Patrick’s frowning lips, Pete explained. “First times deserve a bed and everything that goes with it. And while I know we can go upstairs and continue this, I don’t think we’re ready for me to make those moves on you yet.” Brown eyes met hazel. “Are you, sweetheart?”

After a long moment, Patrick bit his lip and looked away. “No, I don’t…I mean, I want to…but…”

“But you’re not ready,” Pete finished, his voice gentle. “And that’s okay, I swear it’s okay. It’s a big step, what I’m asking for.” He brushed another kiss against Patrick’s temple. “And I’ll say it again, I don’t care how long it takes. I’m perfectly okay with waiting until you are.”

Patrick couldn’t help the sigh of relief he let out. “And what you just did with your hands on my ass?”

“Was me not only appreciating something so fucking perfect, but me wanting you to get used to the idea. Which I probably shouldn’t have done without us talking about things first.” A look of regret appeared on Pete’s face. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Patrick shook his head. “No reason for you to be.” He looked up. “I liked your hands there.”

Regret changed to surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good to know.” There was a pause. “That was just the first reason, though.”

Patrick gave him a look. “Oh? So what’s the second reason?”

Taking Patrick’s hand, Pete kissed the center of his palm before taking it and placing it on his own ass. “I really want you to do me.”

Patrick’s eyes went wide. “You want…oh, God.”

“I definitely want,” Pete murmured, kissing Patrick’s parted lips. “More than that, I want to ride you.” He paused. “Can I?”

Patrick closed his eyes and let out a deep, shuddering breath. “God, yes. Just…you have to show me what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Pete said softly as he eased Patrick onto his back, peppering his face with kisses. “Just lie back and let me do stuff. I’ve wanted you like this for I don’t know how long.” Leaning over him, he began trailing kisses down Patrick’s neck. “God, you are so fucking beautiful.”

“So are you,” Patrick breathed, arching into the touch. “Your skin…the fire’s turning it golden.” He sighed as Pete began licking his way down his chest, heading for his erection. “I thought…don’t you want…”

“Yeah. I just need to get you ready for me. And me ready for you.” Pete’s eyes glinted in the firelight as he reached for his discarded jeans. He pulled out a small tube of lubricant, tapping Patrick’s nose with it. “With this.”

Patrick’s eyes went wide. “Tell me you didn’t have that in your pocket all day.”

“I didn’t. Went upstairs and got it when we came home. Let’s just say I was hoping one us was getting it tonight.” Coating his fingers, Pete leaned down and gave the tip of Patrick’s cock a kiss before wrapping his hand around it. He slid his hand up and down, grinning as Patrick let out a long, low groan in response. “Like that, babe?”

“God, yes,” Patrick gasped, craning his head up to watch. He gave up a moment later, dropping his head back onto the rug. “Oh, fuck…Pete…”

“Easy, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” Pete crooned. “I’ve got us both. Just let me…one moment more.” Letting go of Patrick’s cock, Pete quickly squirted more lube onto his fingers and reached behind himself, gritting his teeth as he shoved two fingers up his own ass.

Patrick lifted his head up again, his eyes going wide when he saw what Pete was doing. “God, that’s…you’re…” He leaned up enough to pull Pete down for another kiss. “Fuck, Pete.”

Pete let out a breathless little laugh as he removed his fingers and straddled Patrick, the tip of the singer’s cock nudging against his hole. “Another minute and you damn well will be,” he said as he stole another kiss. “Love you, Trick.”

“Love you.” Both men groaned as Pete slowly lowered himself down, not stopping until Patrick was all the way in.

Pete paused for a log moment, pressing his forehead against Patrick’s. “Okay, baby?” he asked, bordering on breathless. “Okay?”

“Shouldn’t…shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Patrick managed to get out, his hands settling on Pete’s hips. “God, you feel good.”

“So do you, baby. So fucking good in me.” He rocked his hips, letting out a low groan as he did so. “So fucking perfect.”

“God, you are. Just look at you.” Patrick watched Pete rock above him. He thrust upward, causing Pete to cry out and dig his fingers into his shoulders. “Okay?”

“Fuck, yeah…again. Do that again.” Patrick did so, causing Pete to yell even louder. “Fuck! Yes, baby…don’t stop.”

“Like this?” Patrick moved his hips again, drawing an even louder cry out of Pete. “Right there?”

“Right there. Fuck, right there. Don’t stop…please don’t stop.” Pete began to move faster, each thrust punctuated by a soft gasping little cry. “Fuck…Patrick…”

Keeping one hand on Pete’s hip to hold him steady, Patrick slid the other one up his chest, rubbing his thumb against one nipple. “Gorgeous,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto Pete’s flushed face. “Come on, love. Just like that. Let me watch you come.”

Moaning, Pete began moving even faster until he was practically slamming himself down on Patrick’s cock. He wrapped a shaky hand around his cock, about to jerk himself off when Patrick pushed his hand aside. “No…baby, please…”

“I’ve got you,” Patrick whispered as he ran his fingers over the bassist’s swollen cock. “It’s okay. Let me do this.” He leaned up, craning his neck to kiss Pete’s parted lips. “Let me make you come. You’re close, aren’t you?” At Pete’s shaky nod he went on. “Then do it. Come on me…all over me. I want to watch.”

The combination of Patrick’s whispered words and his caressing fingers proved to be too much. With a final trembling whimper Pete came, his eyes screwed shut as he spurted all over Patrick’s belly. The sight of Pete’s orgasm was enough to trigger Patrick’s; he managed one final shaky thrust upward before coming deep inside Pete with a groan of his own.

Pete sagged against Patrick, immediately burying his face in the other man’s shoulder. Patrick wrapped his arms around Pete, sliding a hand up to tangle in his hair. “You okay?” he whispered, brushing a kiss next to his ear.

Pete let out a long, shuddering sigh. “Yeah,” he managed to get out. “Yeah. It’s just…it’s been a while since it’s been that good. You know?”

Patrick nodded, tightening his hold around Pete’s waist. “Yeah, I know.” He buried another kiss in Pete’s disheveled hair. “And it was. Good, I mean.”

“Knew it would be with you.” Reaching for Patrick’s hand, Pete twined their fingers together. “Can we…I know we should clean up and everything…but can we just lie here for a while? Watch the fire?”

Patrick snuggled closer and closed his eyes. “For as long as you want.”

                                                                        *****

“Are you okay?” Patrick asked the next morning while he watched Pete make coffee from his vantage point at the kitchen table.

Pete looked over his shoulder. “Fine. Why?”

“The way you’re moving…like you’re stiff? Or maybe you pulled something?” Patrick clarified. “You haven’t walked like that since you challenged Dirty to jump into that pile of empty boxes off the roof of the tour bus and you did something to your knee on the _Infinity_ tour.”

Pete thought for a moment. “Oh, I remember that now,” he said as he handed his lover a steaming cup of tea. “God, we were drunk that night. Between the booze and the weed Joe found, it’s a wonder I can remember that at all.” He sat down across from Patrick, wincing a little as his ass connected with the seat cushion. “Where in the hell was that anyway? New Mexico? New York? Something new, I remember that much.”

“New Jersey. You insisted on going to a diner for food before we took you to the emergency room," Patrick supplied with a raised eyebrow. “Now tell me what’s wrong before I drag you to another one by your hair like I did that night.”

“Did I ever mention that the cavemen impression was kinda hot?” Pete asked, grinning as he took a sip of his coffee. “And I swear nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”

Patrick frowned. “You were wincing when you sat down.”

Just then Pete understood. “Oh, that.” He smiled as he held up his hand, thumb and forefinger about a half an inch apart. “Little sore. Nothing that a hot bath – or soaking in the hot tub for a while – won’t fix.”

“Sore?” Patrick repeated, sounding confused.

“From last night in front of the fire,” Pete clarified, still smiling. “Like I said, I haven’t done that in a while. And you’re a handful.”

The last thing Pete expected to see was the stricken look that suddenly crossed Patrick’s face. “I hurt you?” he asked, his voice breaking on the last word.

“No!” Jumping up, Pete pulled an unresisting Patrick into his arms. “No, Pattycakes, no! I swear to God it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.” Cupping Patrick’s face in his hands, Pete gave him a lingering kiss. “You did not hurt me, baby.”

Patrick blinked. “But…you said…”

“I know what I said. I’m an ass and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, I swear.” He brushed his thumb under the edge of Patrick’s glasses, catching the tear that had spilled out. “Last night was so unbelievably perfect.”

Patrick put his hands over Pete’s. “For me, too.”

“I’m glad. I wanted it to be for you.” Pete gave him another kiss. “Anyway…the last time I did that? Remember steady high school boyfriend?”

Patrick’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh. Really that long?”

Pete nodded. “Really that long. I’ve topped with other guys since then, but bottoming…it’s a big deal for me.” He paused, looking for the right words. “There’s gotta be trust. You know?”

Patrick nodded slowly. “And you trust me.”

It wasn’t a question, but Pete nodded just the same. “With everything I have and all of my heart,” he said quietly. “I’m sore, but it’s a good sore. I’ll feel it today and think of you.”

Letting out a sigh, Patrick sagged in Pete’s arms, his head falling onto his shoulder. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“Not an idiot,” Pete corrected gently, kissing his hair. “And not your fault. I threw you a curve ball. Sometimes I forget that you haven’t done stuff like this.”

Patrick snorted. “Not exactly a virgin here.”

“With guys you are.” Pete ran a hand up and down Patrick’s back. “Pretty fast learner, though.”

“Pretty good teacher.” Patrick drew away enough to look at Pete. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Fine. Like I said, good sore.” Pete smiled. “But I love you for worrying.”

“Kinda used to worrying about you by now.” Patrick was about to say more when his phone suddenly rang. “Who in the hell is it this early in the morning?” he grumbled as he went digging in his pocket for it.

Pete snickered. “It’s pushing noon, babe. Not exactly early.”

“Early for me, then,” Patrick said as he finally drew it out and looked at the screen. “And my lawyer should definitely know better.” Tapping the screen, Patrick held it up to his ear. “Hey, Brian.”

Pete drew away, watching as Patrick sat back down at the kitchen table. He poured himself another cup of coffee and tried very hard not to listen to the mostly one-sided conversation. _None of my business_ , he told himself as he tried not to read into the steady stream of “uh huhs” and “okays” coming from Patrick. _If he wants me to know, he’ll tell me when he gets off the phone. Until then mind your own fucking business._

Which he managed to do until he heard Patrick say softly “She did what?”

_Elisa,_ Pete realized, confirming the thought when he turned around and saw the stricken look on his lover’s face. _What did that fucking bitch do now?_ Vaguely he remembered Patrick mentioning that the condo they had shared in Chicago was on the market. Was she fighting him for it now? _It would be just like her if she was_ , he thought, frowning.

Patrick, however, wasn’t paying any attention to him. “You explained it to her what it was for, right? You did call?” Silence, then Patrick’s shoulders slumped even further. “Oh.”

Putting his coffee cup down, Pete put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder, fully expecting him to shrug it off. He was surprised when Patrick put his hand over Pete’s and twined their fingers together instead. _Something’s definitely wrong,_ he thought as he began to rub Patrick’s other shoulder with his free hand. _What in the hell did she do?_

Meanwhile, Patrick was shaking his head. “No,” he said into the phone, his voice shaky but firm. “I don’t want it.” There was a pause as Patrick’s lawyer tried to argue with him to no avail. “I don’t care how much it is. I don’t want the money. Tear it up for all I care.” Even Pete heard the lawyer’s squawk of protest. “Okay, fine. Don’t tear it up then. But I don’t want a penny of it.” His fingers tightened around Pete’s as he leaned back against him. “I know what you can do with it. The charity we set up to help out the public school music programs in Chicago? Give it to them. Parceled out it should give every school a decent amount, right?” He was already nodding. “Do that, then. Put all of our names on it…make it from the band, okay?” Another nod. “And can you do it quietly? No press release or anything. I’ll let the guys know in case someone starts asking questions.” After a moment, Patrick heaved a sigh. “Thanks, Brian. No, just do what you normally do for your fee. Don’t take it out of the check. I want the entire thing to go to the charity.” A pause. “Okay…thanks again. If there are any problems, let me know. Bye.” Clicking off his phone, Patrick let it fall to the table with a clatter before taking off his glasses and putting his hand over his eyes.

Slowly, Pete leaned over Patrick enough to kiss his hair. “Pattycakes? Baby?” Silence. Pete waited for a moment, his worry growing when Patrick didn’t answer right away. “Patrick?”

“I’m okay,” Patrick finally said, his fingers tightening around Pete’s. “I’m good. I’m okay.”

Pete snorted. “God help me, but you are the worst liar I have ever seen,” he said. “Tell me to fuck off and mind my own business if you want. I’m fine with that. But you don’t have to lie to me.”

“Sorry,” Patrick got out, choking on the word.

Leaning even closer, Pete slid his free arm around the redhead’s waist and kissed his cheek. “Sorry for snapping at you.” He rested his chin on Patrick’s free shoulder. “Want to talk?”

Patrick was quiet for a long moment. Then, just as Pete was about to ask again, he spoke. “The condo sold.”

“Yeah?” There was a nod. “That was pretty quick.”

“Yeah. Got full asking price for it, too. Apparently some up and coming model saw it, fell in love with it and wrote out a check right then and there.” There was a pause. “Anyway…I told Brian to send it to Elisa. I didn’t want it and I figured after everything…you know.”

_But I don’t know_ , Pete wanted to shout out. He bit his lip just in time. “Okay,” he finally said, keeping his voice as calm and even as possible. “So what did she do? Decide she wanted the condo after all?”

Patrick shook his head. “No. She sent the check back marked Return to Sender. Didn’t even open it. And when I asked if he had called her to let her know what it was, she said,” Patrick stopped, swiping at his eyes before letting his hand fall to rest on the one Pete had around his waist. “Brian said that she told him that she didn’t want it, didn’t want anything more to do with me and that if I tried to contact her again she’d file a restraining order against me.”

“What?!” Pete couldn’t help what came out of his mouth next. “That fucking bitch!”

Patrick turned in his chair enough to look at him. “Pete…”

“No. You don’t get to defend her this time. Not for this.” He could feel his anger rising in his chest, ready to boil over. How could she? How **dare** she? “Whatever the hell you think you did, there’s no way in hell you deserve the way she’s treating you. Not even a little.”

Patrick turned away. “I hurt her,” he said, his voice a broken whisper.

“And she’s hurting you! I’d say she’s got a couple up on you by now!” Pete bit his lip, forcing himself to calm down a little. “Trick…sweetheart…there’s no reason for her to be like this except that she wants to be mean. No fucking reason at all.” He leaned even closer, wrapping himself around Patrick in an effort to shield, to comfort. “She didn’t have to say that. She could have been polite about it and just sent it back or just kept the damn thing or any number of things. She just did it this way because she fucking knew it would upset you.” Pete brushed a kiss against Patrick’s cheek. “Don’t let her do that, baby. Don’t let her have that kind of power over you. She’s not fucking worth it.”

“I know,” Patrick finally whispered. “I know I shouldn’t. It’s just,” He sighed. “Maybe I just wish things had ended differently. I did love her.”

“I know you did. And I know a part of you still does. Because you’ve got a big heart, the biggest out of everyone I know.” Pete planted another kiss in Patrick’s disheveled hair. “And if she can’t see that, if she can’t see how amazing and perfect and incredible you are, then fuck her.”

Patrick was silent for a long moment, so long that Pete was afraid that he had once again said too much of the wrong thing. Just when he was about to apologize, Patrick looked up at him. “I love you, you know.”

“I know. And I love you, too.” He gave Patrick’s shoulder a squeeze. “Gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” Patrick let out another sigh. “It’s getting easier, dealing with things.” A small smile suddenly crossed his face. “Maybe because I have you.”

Pete grinned. “Always, babe.” He gave Patrick a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek. “Anything I can do?’

“You have. You’re here.” Kissing Pete’s cheek as well, he drew away enough to get up from his chair. “I’m going to go get dressed. Do we have anything specific planned for today?”

“Clandestine has been trying to get a hold of me for at least a day, so I should get on the horn with them eventually,” Pete said as he picked up his empty coffee cup to pour himself some more. His brow furrowed as he thought for a moment. “I’m not sure what else? I have to plow through my email.”

“I should, too. God only knows when I did it last.” Picking up his glasses, Patrick put them back on before pausing at the doorway to the kitchen. “So…quiet day?”

“Think so.” Pete leaned against the kitchen counter, giving Patrick a long, measuring look. “You okay with that?”

“More than okay. I like quiet days. I like quiet days with you even more.” Smiling, Patrick went out into the living room and disappeared up the stairs.

Pete watched him go, a smile on his face as he admired the sight of Patrick’s ass clad in flannel pajama bottoms. _Down boy_ , he told himself sternly. _No pouncing unless invited._ And considering what had just happened, he doubted he’d be invited anytime soon.

_At least not today_ , he mused as he sipped his coffee. A twinge of discomfort coming from his own ass reminded him that a few days of celibacy might not be a bad idea.

_And we still need to talk about things_ , he thought. _There’s still too much I don’t know._ He glanced at the phone sitting on the table; his was upstairs, but there was Patrick’s and he knew that the singer had his mom on speed dial.

_No_ , he thought, stopping himself before he reached for it. _Not now. He’s had a bad enough day as it is. Don’t fucking add to it. And especially don’t do it from his phone._ Heaving a sigh, Pete looked down at Hemmingway. “So what do you think I should do, Hemmy?”

Letting out a soft ‘woof’ in response, Hemmy wandered over to his empty food bowl and sat down next to it. He barked again and Pete couldn’t help the spurt of laughter that escaped him. “Well, I guess I know where you stand,” Pete said as he picked it up and filled it. Once Hemmingway was eating quietly, he went upstairs to find Patrick.

He found the singer in the guest room, a pile of clean clothes on the neatly made bed as he stood facing away from the door with his t-shirt being pulled over his head. Pete let out a wolf whistle and grinned as Patrick turned around. “Hey, beautiful.”

Patrick blushed, ducking his head. “Hey yourself,” he said, holding the t-shirt in front of his bare chest.

_Still self-conscious, even after everything_ , Pete marveled as he walked over. _Fuck, but that bitch did a number on him. And the one before wasn’t much better._ Taking the shirt out of Patrick’s hands, he tossed it onto the bed. “You don’t have to cover up,” he said as he put his hands on Patrick’s pajama clad hips. “You’re gorgeous like this.”

Smiling, Patrick shook his head as his own hands moved to Pete’s hips. “I need a shower.”

“So do I. We could take one together?” A hopeful note crept into Pete’s voice. “Mine is definitely big enough for the two of us. And I could wash your back?”

Patrick snorted. “I know you. That’s not all you’d be washing.” There was a pause. “But…I think I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” At Patrick’s nod, Pete grinned. “Okay! Right this way, my good sir.” He began leading Patrick across the hall. “All the hot water you could ever want, fluffy towels, definitely plenty of soap.”

Patrick laughed, the sound music to Pete’s ears. “God, you’re ridiculous,” he said, leaning in for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Going into the bathroom, Pete slid open the shower door and turned on the water. “You fix it how you like it. I’m gonna find some clothes.” He stole another kiss. “Be right back.” He went back into the bedroom.

When he returned, Patrick had already climbed into the shower as was tilting his head under the stream. Pete stared, swallowing hard as he watched the water cascade over the redhead’s bare chest. “Beautiful,” he breathed.

Opening his eyes, Patrick looked over and smiled as he held out his hand. “So are you,” he said simply. “Come here.”

Quickly stripping off his clothes, Pete climbed in and immediately took Patrick into his arms. “Hey.”

“Hi.” They shared a brief kiss. “You weren’t kidding about the size of the shower, were you?” He glanced over at the shiny reflective tiles on the wall. “Or being able to watch.”

“Nope. Love seeing you like this.” Pete nuzzled his ear, causing him to tilt his head back and sigh in response. “Is it too much for you, babe? Because if it is…”

“It isn’t,” Patrick answered firmly. “And if it is…oh God…I can close my eyes if it is.” He whimpered as Pete leaned down enough to lick one of his nipples erect. “Fuck…Pete…”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Fuck, but you’re so perfect like this.” Picking up a washcloth and a bar of soap, he began to scrub, leaving soap bubbles in his wake. “How does that feel?”

“Mmm…wonderful.” Reaching behind him for the shampoo, Patrick poured some into his hand and began carding his fingers through Pete’s dark hair. He smiled as Pete hummed and leaned into the touch. “You’re like a big cat who likes to be scratched between his ears.”

“All you have to do is pet me the right way,” Pete agreed, grinning as his hand moved to scrub in between Patrick’s shoulder blades. He moved his hand even lower, skimming the top of Patrick’s ass. “Okay?” he asked softly, not wanting to go any further without the singer’s approval.

“Yeah.” Even as he said it, however, Patrick reached down and gently moved Pete’s hand back up to his waist. “But not any more there right now, okay?” He smiled. “With our luck if we do try something like that we’d end up slipping and breaking our necks.”

Seeing the brief flash of hesitation in Patrick’s hazel eyes, Pete backed off, moving his hand around and upward to scrub the singer’s chest. “Definitely don’t want that to happen,” Pete said, still smiling. “And I know I’ve said this before, but first times should always get a bed.” Giving Patrick a lingering kiss, Pete tilted his head back to rinse the soap out of his hair before handing the washcloth over. “Switch? I’ll do your hair if you want.”

“Okay.” Patrick began running the washcloth over Pete’s chest as the bassist grabbed the shampoo. He let out a sigh of his own as Pete began scrubbing his fingers along his scalp. “Oh…that’s good.”

“Yeah?” Making sure he got every strand of Patrick’s bright hair, Pete carefully angled him under the spray. “Tilt back, baby. Let me get this stuff out of your hair.” He rinsed the shampoo away, pausing the brush his lips against the hollow of Patrick’s throat. “Gorgeous.”

“So are you.” Patrick ran the washcloth over Pete’s arm, covering Jack and Sally with soap bubbles before moving down his back. He skimmed over Pete’s hips, crouching long enough to wash Pete’s feet and legs before he finally paused at the bat heart tattoo. “Love you,” he whispered. “Love you so much, Pete.”

“Love you, too,” Pete said as he gave Patrick another teasing little kiss. Positioning them both under the spray, he made sure all the soap was rinsed away before he asked, “Can I do something to show you, sweetheart? Will you let me?”

Patrick was about to ask him what when he felt Pete’s hand on his stomach, the edge of his hairline just touching the tips of his fingers. “Don’t have to,” he breathed even as he leaned closer, turning the feather light pressure into a firmer one.

“Want to,” Pete murmured against Patrick’s lips. “Want to be on my knees tasting you and have you come down my throat. Want you to watch me while I swallow you down.” He gave Patrick yet another tongue-tangling kiss. “Come on, baby…let me suck you off.”

All Patrick could do was nod after having the breath kissed out of him. He leaned against the shower wall, his eyes going wide as Pete dropped to his knees in front of him. “God, Pete,” he breathed, brushing his fingers over his lover’s stubbled cheek. “You should see yourself.”

“You, too. All wet and naked and sexy.” Pete grinned as he slid his hands up Patrick’s legs to rest on his thighs, bringing him eye level to Patrick’s already lengthening erection. He kissed the head, drawing a gasp out of the singer right before slowly taking him all the way down his throat.

“Oh God…Pete,” Patrick moaned, his fingers clawing at the shower wall for support as he looked down to watch. He glanced to the side, his eyes going even wider at the image of Pete kneeling in front of him, his mouth stretched around his cock as water cascaded over him. “Please…God, Pete…please…good…it’s so good…”

_You are_ , Pete thought as he sucked, running his tongue up and down Patrick’s shaft before lapping at the flared head. Reaching up, he grasped one of the singer’s hands and put it in his hair, letting out a moan of his own with Patrick’s fingers tightened and began to pull. _That’s it, baby. Pull as hard as you want. Show me you want this…want my mouth on you…_

Meanwhile, Patrick’s moans were growing louder, echoing off the tiled walls with every teasing little lick, every firmer suckle. He began thrusting his hips, sending his cock even deeper down Pete’s throat as his orgasm began to build. He looked down just as Pete looked up and their eyes locked. That was all it took to send Patrick over the edge; tilting his head back, he let out a choked off wail as he came, both fists in Pete’s hair as the water ran over them both.

Swallowing everything down, Pete slowly drew away and sat back on his heels, grinning up at the redhead. “You okay up there?”

Opening his eyes, Patrick looked down and grinned as well. “Better than okay.” He held out his hand. “Get up here.”

Grasping Patrick’s hand, Pete scrambled to his feet and drew him into another kiss. “Delicious,” he purred, licking his lips.

“And you’re incredible,” Patrick said, resting his forehead against Pete’s. “Your hair…did I pull too hard?”

“I like it when you pull.” Kissing his cheek, Pete drew away enough to turn off the water. “Come on. Let’s get you dried off.”

Stepping out of the shower, Patrick was immediately enveloped in a bath towel almost twice as big as he was. “You’re babying me,” he accused as Pete began rubbing him dry.

“Maybe,” Pete replied with a shrug. “Maybe I think you deserve a little babying after everything. I mean, I know you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself,” He looked up and their eyes met. “But I like taking care of you.”

A soft smile appeared on Patrick’s face as he grabbed another huge towel. This was how Pete loved, how he showed his affection. And while there were times when he might have gone a little too far, there was never any doubt that he cared. “And I love it when you do,” he said, wrapping the towel around Pete and pulling him into another kiss.

They stood like that for several long moments, both of them naked except for the towels wrapped around themselves as they traded kisses back and forth. Finally, Pete reluctantly pulled away. “We should get dressed.”

Patrick’s eyes went wide.” “We should? Are you feeling okay? Because lately you’ve been more trying to get me out of my clothes rather than in them.”

“Kinda figured you’d be down for the count for a while, what with last night and your lawyer and just now,” Pete said as he rubbed his hair dry with the corner of his towel. He suddenly grinned. “But if you really want to walk around naked, feel free. Don’t let me stop you.” Walking into the bedroom, he sat down on the bed and picked up his socks and underwear. “I’ll be more than happy sitting back and enjoying the view.”

Patrick’s cheeks turned bright red as he wrapped the towel tighter around himself. “I’m serious. Are you really okay? And don’t lie to me.”

“I’m fine, babe. Really. And I swear to you I’m not lying.” He put a hand over his heart for emphasis. “As for why I’m not jumping your bones right this second…some of it is because I’m still a little sore. But mostly it’s a side effect from my meds.”

Patrick frowned as he sat down next to him. “Side effect?”

Pete nodded. “The stuff I’m on is great for keeping me on an even keel, but every once in a while the price I have to pay kicks in. And usually it’s not that bad. I’m fine with it most days.” A wry little smile suddenly crossed the bassist’s face. “Today, though? Today it fucking sucks.”

It took a moment for Patrick to realize what Pete was trying to say in his roundabout way, but when he did his eyes went wide. He glanced down; there was no sign of an erection under Pete’s towel. “Oh…I see.”

“Yeah.” Pete leaned down enough to pull on his socks. “Little frustrating, especially with you sitting so close to me with just a towel on, but nothing I can’t deal with.” He looked up and smiled. “And it usually doesn’t last for long.”

Patrick waved his hand toward the bedroom door. “Do you want me to go?” he asked, the concern obvious in his voice. “I mean…if I’m making you uncomfortable…”

“You’re not,” Pete interrupted, taking Patrick’s hand and kissing his fingers for good measure. “Just because I can’t do anything right now doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view.” He stood up enough to pull on a pair of bright blue boxer briefs. “I certainly did watching you go up the stairs.”

Patrick’s cheeks grew even pinker. “I did notice that,” he murmured, remembering the feel of Pete’s erection pressed against his thigh before they had gotten undressed and jumped in the shower. “You’re sure you’re okay, though?”

“I swear I’m fine. But thank you for worrying.” He leaned over to steal another kiss. “Rain check for whatever it is you were planning?”

The singer ducked his head. “Wasn’t really planning anything,” he said. “Just...I thought…you know…we’d end up in bed again.”

“I can keep my hands to myself for more than five minutes at a time,” Pete said, still smiling as he reached for a pair of battered jeans. “And we both have stuff to catch up on.” He paused. “Besides, waiting sometimes makes things better. You know?” When Patrick nodded, Pete stole another kiss. “Thought you might. Don’t worry. It’ll go away. It always does.” He stood up long enough to pull on his jeans. “You doing okay? I know the meds you’re on have been making you tired…has there been anything else?”

Patrick shook his head. “Dr. Anne mentioned that, too…that I should watch out for that. But I’ve been fine.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Maybe because I haven’t been on them that long?”

“Maybe. Something to ask about next time you see her.” Pete pulled on his t-shirt next. “I’m gonna grab another cup of coffee. Want some more tea?”

Patrick smiled. “Yes, please.” He punctuated the words with another kiss before gesturing to the towel still wrapped around him. “I’ll be down.”

“Take your time. Like you said, quiet day.” Pete left the room, heading downstairs.

 Patrick watched him go, a heavy feeling settling into his chest as the smile on his face disappeared. _He needs to know_ , he told himself sternly. _He deserves to know and he’s not going to put up with not knowing for much longer._ Sighing, he rubbed his eyes. He didn’t want to deal with this today. He didn’t want to deal with this any day actually, but especially not today and especially not after his earlier upset.

_Tomorrow_ , he promised himself as he finished drying off and put on his clothes. _I’ll tell him tomorrow. For sure this time._ Even as he thought that, however, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder what excuse he would come up with when tomorrow became today.

                                                                        *****

“What are you working on?” Pete finally asked, his curiosity having built up to a fever pitch. He had managed to bite his lip and not say anything when Patrick had come downstairs with his laptop bag on his shoulder, not wanting to spook the singer into shutting everything down and stopping. Especially since this was the first time Patrick had pulled out his laptop since getting out of the hospital.

_And he didn’t do it much during the last leg of the tour, either_ , he thought, mentally kicking himself. Another thing he should have noticed about Patrick and didn’t.

Patrick suddenly grinned and Pete felt his heart skip a beat as the redhead made a show out of looking at his watch. “Three hours and 21 minutes before you asked me,” he said. “That’s got to be a new record.”

Pete stuck his tongue out at him. “I lasted over four hours heading for Seattle that one time.”

“Being asleep doesn’t count. Especially since you started poking at me the moment you got up and saw me working,” Patrick countered, still smiling.  He held out his hand. “Come listen. I want to know what you think.”

Pete literally grabbed Patrick’s hand and let himself be pulled onto the couch, trying not to let the surprise show on his face. Patrick rarely let anyone listen to his music before he considered it finished and it was even rarer for him to be writing music without one of Pete’s notebooks in front of him. Taking the ear plug from him, Pete put it in his ear as Patrick tapped a few keys and hit enter.

The snippet was short – not even a minute long by Pete’s guess. However, the moment it was over the bassist put a hand on Patrick’s arm. “Play it again.”

More tapping on keys, with Patrick’s thumb hitting enter and Pete closed his eyes, losing himself in the music. The end came abruptly and he couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him. “Fuck.”

“Good or bad?”

Opening his eyes to give his band mate an incredulous stare, Pete couldn’t help but notice how nervous Patrick looked with how he was biting his lower lip. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

Patrick shrugged and looked away. “First thing I’ve written in a couple months,” he said. “If you don’t like it, say so.”

Pete stared, not believing what he was hearing. “Not…Patrick, it’s fucking gorgeous. Where in the hell did it come from?”

Another shrug answered him. “I’m not really sure,” he finally said. “I was getting dressed when it popped into my head all of a sudden. That’s why I brought my laptop down. I wanted to save it before it disappeared on me.” He paused, sighing. “That was happening a lot during the last leg of the tour.”

“Depression does that,” Pete said softly. “Right after Ashlee left, there were weeks when I didn’t write a damn thing. Just stared at blank pieces of paper in an empty house. Took Dr. Anne playing with my meds for a good six months before I wrote anything down and another three to like things well enough to keep. Still don’t think I’ve shown any of it to anyone yet.” He tapped the edge of Patrick’s computer. “This though…this is incredible.”

Patrick relaxed, letting himself smile. “You liked it?”

“I really like it and I think it’s absolutely beautiful,” Pete said, grinning when Patrick’s smile brightened even more. “Is it for the band or for you? Have you decided yet?”

Patrick shook his head. “Not yet. There’s something missing. I just don’t know what.”

Pete shrugged. “Didn’t sound like it to me.” He paused. “I’m gonna have a hell of a time coming up with words that’ll fit.”

Patrick gave him a look. “You have at least a dozen notebooks full of words I haven’t seen yet. I’m sure you have to have a few in there somewhere.”

“No,” Pete suddenly said, both to Patrick’s surprise and his own. “It can’t be just anything. They have to be new words…the right ones.” He thought for a moment, his brow furrowing before he frowned. “And I know I don’t have anything like that right now.”

“You’ll come up with something. You always do.” Patrick leaned over and kissed his cheek. “And it’ll fit just right and be amazing, like it always is.”

Pete’s heart warmed at the sound of the utter faith he could hear in Patrick’s words. “I’ll leave you alone, then. Let you get back to work,” he said, giving the singer’s knee a pat.

“You don’t have to.” A few more taps of the keyboard and the computer screen shut off. “I was done for the day. I just wanted you to hear it before I shut things off.” He closed the laptop, leaving it on the coffee table. “Nothing more is coming right now and if I keep poking at it…” He didn’t finish.

Pete nodded. “Yeah. Definitely know how that feels.” Suddenly grinning again, Pete began inching his hand up Patrick’s leg. “So if you’re done writing for now, does that mean you have time to fool around a little?”

Patrick was about to say yes when he realized that Pete had just given him the perfect opportunity. _I have to tell him now,_ he realized. _If I don’t, I never will._ “Actually…can we talk?” He asked, his voice soft, hesitant. “There are some things I should tell you. Some things you need to know.”

“Sure.” Pete turned toward him, a concerned look on his face. “You know…you don’t have to tell me anything if you really don’t want to. I meant it when I said that.”

Patrick was silent for a long moment as he considered everything. Finally, he said, “I know. But I think…I think I need to.” He put a hand over Pete’s. “I want you to understand. And I know you don’t right now. Not really.”

Pete twined their fingers together. “I’m trying to.”

“I know you are and I love you for it.” Patrick gave Pete’s fingers a squeeze. “I just haven’t told you before now because…well…” He sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s hard.”

Pete brushed a kiss against Patrick’s cheek. “Tell me what I can do to make it easier for you,” he whispered. “I’ll do anything.”

Patrick was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he said, at a loss. “Maybe…maybe if you hold me?”

Pete nodded. “I can do that. C’mere.” Drawing Patrick into his arms, Pete laid down on the sofa, shoving two pillows under his head as he did so. Patrick immediately settled against his chest, sighing. “Okay, baby?”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes as Pete began running his fingers through his hair. “Oh…that’s nice.”

“Yeah, it is,” Pete agreed, his voice still soft. Pulling the brightly colored blanket off the back of the sofa, he settled it over them both before giving the singer’s shoulders a squeeze. “There. I’ve got you, sweetheart. Okay?” He leaned down enough to kiss the top of Patrick’s head. “I’ve got you.”

Patrick sighed again as he let himself relax in Pete’s arms. _Safe_ , he thought, letting the feel of Pete’s fingers in his hair and the steady rhythm of his breathing relax him even more. He was safe.

Suddenly feeling a weight settle on his bare feet, Patrick looked over his shoulder to see Hemmingway panting happily at him and smiled. “Looks like someone else wants to listen in,” he said as he settled back down.

“He knows how cold your feet get,” Pete said, chuckling as well. He fell silent as he continued to brush his fingers through Patrick’s hair, waiting for the singer to begin.

Finally, Patrick did. “The reason Elisa left…I didn’t tell you all of it,” he said. “I mean…that was some of it, the fact that I was leaving her alone too much…but that wasn’t the main reason.”

“Kinda figured,” Pete said quietly. “You wouldn’t look me in the eye when you were telling me, so I knew you weren’t telling me the whole truth.”

Patrick looked up. “You didn’t call me on it.”

Pete shook his head. “You had just gotten out of the hospital and you were pretty shaky. I didn’t want to make things worse by making you play twenty questions.” There was a pause. “Besides, I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.”

Patrick closed his eyes against a sudden rush of tears; it was just like Pete to do that, to give him the space he needed without questioning things. It was one of the many things Patrick loved about him. “You’ve been awfully patient with me through all this,” he observed.

“You deserve a little patience after everything you’ve been through,” Pete said in return. He tightened his hold around Patrick’s shoulders. “And I’ve kinda been where you are right now. You know?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said, trying not to choke on the words as he remembered another hospital room and Pete’s too thin, too pale face. _Too close_ , he thought. They had come far too close to losing everything far too many times. No wonder Pete was so reluctant to let him go.

Letting out a shaky little sigh, Patrick started over. “I went home to the condo and saw her suitcases by the door. When I asked her what was going on,” He took a deep breath and continued. “She accused me…she thought that we…the two of us…were sleeping together.”

Pete suddenly went rigid. “What?”

“Yeah. Ironic, considering.” Patrick let out a weak little chuckle. “That’s what she asked me…how long. Although she didn’t put it quite that nicely.” There was a pause. “I think her exact words were “So how long have you been fucking him?””

Pete closed his eyes and tightened his hold on his lover’s shoulders. “Jesus, Patrick.”

“And when I told her I wasn’t, she came out with “Oh, so he fucks you, then. That’s actually how I thought it was.”” Closing his eyes as well, Patrick continued on. “I tried to tell her we weren’t…that we were friends and that was all…but she wouldn’t listen. She just kept going on about how I’d say your name in my sleep and how you kept putting your arm around me, how you would watch me. Like you were just biding your time, waiting for me to realize how I really felt about you.” He took another shaky breath. “That was how she put it.”

“Trick, no. That wasn’t how I meant it to be,” Pete denied. “It was never like that, I swear.”

“I know. I kept trying to tell her that…that you had always been like that with everyone, not just me…all grabby-hands and feeling everyone up and touching all the time…that was just how you were.” He sniffled, swiping at his eyes before going on. “I put you first, she said. Before anyone else. Before my family, the rest of the band…before even her.” Another sniffle. “I don’t think…I don’t remember if I did. I tried not to…”

"Of course you didn’t, sweetheart,” Pete murmured, stroking Patrick’s hair. “I never thought you did.”

“And I don’t know what I did to make her feel that way. Maybe being away for so long?” Patrick shook his head and continued. “She said then she was leaving…that she wasn’t going to play second best any longer. And when I told her…when I said that I loved her…she just gave me this look and said “Maybe you do. But you love Pete more”.” Patrick took another deep, shaky breath. “And I…I didn’t know how to answer that…because I did…I do. I love you…but not…not how she meant at the time.”

‘I know, baby,” Pete soothed, knowing exactly what Patrick was trying to say. “And you didn’t do anything. Not a goddamned thing. You’re a musician, for fuck’s sake. Musicians tour. She knew what she signed up for when she got together with you.”

“We were still on hiatus when Elisa and I met. I wasn’t…I wasn’t gone as long. Or as often.” Patrick paused, his fingers digging into Pete’s shirt. "I just…I never gave it a thought. She never really said anything.”

“Did she expect you to be a mind reader on top of everything else?” Pete commented, one hand going up and down Patrick’s back in an effort to soothe. “Because you’re amazing and all, but you can’t perform miracles on command.”

“I don’t know,” Patrick’s voice was soft and sad. “I don’t really know what she wanted. She never really said.”

_And she expected you to bend over backwards and guess_ , Pete thought, frowning. _And knowing you I bet you tried your hardest to for a while._ He continued to rub, partly because he knew it was comforting Patrick and partly because he didn’t know what else to do. “That’s not all, is it?” he asked softly. He could tell just by the way Patrick was holding himself that there was more. “Tell me the rest.”

Swallowing hard, Patrick continued. “The last thing she said before she walked out the door…she told me that she knew who I had given my heart to…and it wasn’t her.” There was a pause. “Then she left. I was standing in the living room with the engagement ring still in my pocket…I didn’t even try to go after her. All I could do was watch her go.”

“I’m sorry,” Pete said softly. “I’m so fucking sorry, Patrick. If I did something…”

“You didn’t,” Patrick interrupted. “You didn’t do anything except be you. And I wouldn’t ask you to be anything else. Not for anything.” He looked up and their eyes met. “I love you just the way you are.”

Pete brushed his fingers over Patrick’s cheek. “I love you, too,” he whispered before drawing him into a kiss.

Patrick settled his head back on Pete’s shoulder. “I think that’s when I realized how right she was. Because I hadn’t. I honestly never thought of you that way…even with everything the fans threw at us, it never occurred to me that you might…that we could ever be…until that moment when she yelled it at my face.” There was a pause. “You were my best friend. I never thought there could be more.”

“And I never let myself think it. Not deep down,” Pete said softly. “I know I teased you about it and the fans wouldn’t let it go, but I also knew that if I pushed too hard you’d run screaming in the other direction.” He paused for a moment. “Like I said before, you were my best friend and I had just gotten you back after three years without you. That was enough.” He laid his cheek against Patrick’s hair. “More than enough, really. More than I ever thought possible. There was a long period of time when I didn’t think I’d have that much.”

Patrick looked up, a confused little frown on his face. “Why?”

Pete shrugged. “I hurt you pretty badly. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had chosen not to forgive me.”

“You were sick, Pete. And I was young and stupid. I understand a little bit better now.” Patrick leaned up enough to kiss his cheek. “Forgiving you was never a question. Because there was nothing to forgive.”

Pete let Patrick settle back into his arms, his hand going back to smooth over the singer’s hair before he asked the one question that had been nagging at him for so long. “Is that why you don’t want to go home anymore? Or is there more?”

Silence, followed by a heavy sigh. “Partly. Chicago…there are a lot of ghosts there now. A lot of places I’m not up to seeing. The restaurant where Elisa and I used to go every Thursday, the movie theatre where we had our first date, the jewelry store where I bought her engagement ring. It’s just…it’s too hard right now, facing those memories.” His voice softened. “But there is more.”

“Your mom,” Pete said and Patrick suddenly went still. “You haven’t called her. Not once since you got here. And I’m pretty sure you didn’t during the last leg of the tour. And when you told me not to call her while you were in the hospital, it kinda set off the alarm bells in my head.” He paused. “She still doesn’t know, does she? About all this.” His fingers brushed over Patrick’s wrist, lightly touching the scar bisecting it.

Patrick shook his head. “No,” he managed to get out, choking on the word. “No, she doesn’t.”

“Why not, baby?” Pete made his voice as gentle and soothing as he could. “Why don’t you want to go home?”

“Because…because it’s not home anymore.”

Pete froze at the sound of Patrick’s shaky, tear-filled voice. _Bad_ , he couldn’t help thinking. It had to be bad for Patrick to be so close to breaking down. “Explain it to me, baby,” he ordered gently.

Silence. Then Patrick said softly, “And if I said I didn’t want to?” he asked, swiping at his eyes again. “If I told you to leave it?”

Pete bit back what he truly wanted to say through sheer force of will. “Then I’d leave it,” he said out loud, all the while thinking, _No. Please don’t, sweetheart. You need to talk about this. You can’t bottle it up forever._ “But before you do, can you hear me out first?”

Patrick looked up and an ache filled Pete’s chest when he saw his lover’s beautiful eyes nearly overflowing with tears. _So fragile_ , he thought, biting his lip. Patrick was about ten seconds away from breaking completely; Pete just hoped he’d be able to put him back together when they were done.

“Patrick…sweetheart…you need to get this out,” he finally said, cupping his lover’s damp cheek. “It’s tearing you apart and every day you stay quiet it just gets worse. Not just for you but for me, too.” Reaching down, Pete took one of Patrick’s hands in his. “I want to help. I will do **anything** you ask me to. You know that.” His tone turned pleading as their eyes met. “I just…I don’t know how much good I can be if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Patrick was silent for a long moment, sniffling forlornly as he buried his face in Pete’s shoulder. “I just…I don’t think you can help with this,” he said, his voice shaking so badly that Pete was having a hard time understanding him.

“And maybe I can’t,” Pete whispered, his lips brushing against Patrick’s ear. “But I can damn sure as hell try. At the very least, I can listen.”

Patrick shuddered and Pete quickly pulled the blanket up over the redhead’s shoulders. “It’s okay, baby. I got you,” he crooned as he tightened his hold around Patrick even more. “Shh, now. You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want to. You don’t ever have to tell me. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Patrick nearly choked on the words. “It’s not okay. I just…I wish I hadn’t told her about you…about us.”

That opened Pete’s eyes. “You told her everything, sweetheart?” he asked, his heart lurching hard in his chest.

Patrick nodded. “I didn’t know what to do. It was either call you or call her. And I couldn’t call you after everything. I just couldn’t.”

“You could have,” Pete said quietly. “I would’ve listened.”

“And what the hell was I going to say?” Patrick asked, looking up at Pete enough to glare at him through his tears. “Something like my girlfriend left me because she thinks we’re fucking each other? Only we’re not but deep down I really want to, because you’re my best friend and I love you and you’re ridiculously hot besides?” He ran a hand over his face before laying his head back down. “Yeah…that would’ve gone over real well. Especially coming back to being stuck together on a cramped tour bus in the middle of a nationwide tour.”

Pete mulled that over for a moment. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he finally said.

“And that night…when all this was going on…you were here in LA. Halfway across the country,” Patrick continued. “Even if I had wanted to, you don’t tell someone something like that over the fucking phone.”

Pete nodded in understanding. “So you went over to your mom’s house that night and told her?”

“After sitting on the living room couch for two hours staring up at the ceiling and going over everything in my head about a thousand times,” Patrick said. “So by the time I got there I was pretty worked up. The minute I saw her, everything just spilled out. Elisa…you…how I felt…how much I loved you and for how long. How…how much I wanted you. Everything.” He paused. “I must’ve talked for at least an hour, just going on and on about every little detail. And she didn’t interrupt me once. Just sat at the kitchen table with me and listened to it all. So I thought…maybe…” He stopped, swiping at his watering eyes before going on. “But when I was finally done, she had this look on her face. Like…even though it was true because I was saying it…she still couldn’t believe what she was hearing. You know?”

Pete nodded. “Mom had that same look on her face when I told her I was marrying Ashlee. I don’t think she believed we’d go through with it until we actually stood in front of Ash’s father and said “I Do”.”

“Yeah.” Patrick continued on. “Anyway…she asked me if I was on anything…if I knew what I was saying. What I was admitting to.”

Pete’s eyes went wide. “She actually asked you that?”

Patrick nodded. “I think…maybe she was hoping I was drunk or something so she could blame what I was saying on whatever I was on and not have to believe me. But when I told her I wasn’t, that I was stone cold sober and knew what I was saying…she just…she said…” Patrick’s voice dropped to the barest of whispers. “She said…” Choking back a sob, Patrick turned his face into Pete’s t-shirt.

_Bad_ , Pete thought with growing horror as he tightened his arms around Patrick’s trembling frame. _It’s got to be bad._ “It’s okay,” he whispered into the singer’s ear. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay.”

“It’s not,” Patrick managed to get out, shaking his head. “It’s not, Pete. You didn’t hear her…what she said. You didn’t see the look on her face when she…when she said it.” He took a deep shaky breath as he clutched at Pete’s shirt. “God…I never thought…”

Biting his lip, Pete asked the one question he didn’t want the answer to. “What did she say, baby?”

“She said…she told me that I was her son…and that she would always love me…but there were certain things she couldn’t accept. Certain things…she wouldn’t condone.” Swallowing hard, Patrick continued on. “And that me being in love with another man was one of them.”

“Oh, God.” Pete’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as his own eyes welled up with tears. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Patrick, however, didn’t seem to hear hm. “Then…then she told me…that she didn’t want to see me or talk to me…or have anything to do with me…until I had straightened myself out.” He sniffled, tears slowly sliding down his cheeks. “And then…then she said…she had nothing more to say to me…and that I needed to leave.” He let out a small, sad little sigh. “So I left.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Pete murmured, holding Patrick as tightly as he could. To lose both his girlfriend and his mother in the same day, for the same reason… “After you left, what did you do?”

“I drove until I couldn’t think anymore. With everything playing over and over in my head…I didn’t know what to do…or where to go.” He looked up at Pete, tear tracks glistening in the light. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t go back to the condo…”

“Of course you couldn’t,” Pete murmured, brushing at the tracks with his thumb. He knew what he would have done – gone back to the condo and smashed everything he could reach into oblivion. But that wasn’t Patrick’s way. “So where did you go?”

“No tell motel near the airport. After I stopped at a liquor store and bought two of the biggest bottles of whisky I could find.” Patrick paused long enough to take another deep, shaky breath. “I checked in, managed to get to the bed, and drank and cried until I fell asleep.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “I did that for four days.”

Pete’s eyes went wide. “Jesus, Trick.” He began running his fingers through Patrick’s disheveled hair again. “You’re lucky you didn’t get alcohol poisoning or something.”

“What do they say? God protects drunks and fools?” Patrick went on without waiting for an answer. “On the fifth day I sobered up enough to go back to the condo and get my stuff. Elisa had left me a note with the key saying she didn’t want it, never wanted to see me again, hoped I dropped dead…things like that.” He paused. “So I called Brian to clear it out, put everything in storage and put it on the market. And I just…I packed up my clothes and my guitars…”

Pete finished the sentence for him. “And went back out on tour.”

Patrick nodded. “And went back out on tour.”

“And you didn’t say anything,” Pete breathed. How had Patrick managed to see so much pain and heartache to himself for so long? “Not one word to any of us.”

“I couldn’t,” Patrick said, his voice shaking. “I felt so dirty…so disgusted with myself after everything I had done. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. How I broke Elisa’s heart…and my mom’s…how I had let everybody down. How I was going to lose you too if you if you ever found out.”

“Never,” Pete’s voice was soft but firm. “You never would have lost me, Patrick. Not ever.”                                                                                                                                                                                

“But I thought I would. You always said…you weren’t that way even with everything and I thought…I thought honestly you’d hate me for wanting you. For lying to you for so long.” Patrick was openly crying now, his fingers digging into Pete’s arms for support. “I lied to you for so long…years…”

“Baby, no. You didn’t,” Pete said, his heart aching. “You never lied to me about any of that. Not once.”

Patrick wasn’t listening. “And I couldn’t. I lost Elisa and Mom…I couldn’t stand to lose you, too. And I knew I would the minute you found out. I just kept thinking about that over and over…it kept going on and on in my head and got worse and worse. I couldn’t sleep…couldn’t eat. I could barely go on stage…and even that didn’t help. It did for a while…but in the end I didn’t even have the music…and I just couldn’t stand it anymore.” A choked off sob escaped him as he buried his face in Pete’s shoulder. “That last night…after the show…I just wanted everything to be over.”

Pete closed his eyes, fighting back his own tears as he hugged Patrick as hard as he could before burying a kiss in his red hair. “I love you,” he said, not knowing what else to say and knowing it would never be enough. “I love you so much, Patrick. I love you.” He kept whispering those words over and over, cradling Patrick’s shaking frame in his arms while he sobbed. “I’ve got you. I’m here and I love you and I’m not letting you go. Not ever.”

Finally, the sobs tapered off and Patrick went still. Looking down at him, Pete swallowed down the lump in his throat at the sight. Patrick had cried himself into an exhausted sleep.

“Poor sweet baby,” Pete murmured, brushing his fingers through his lover’s hair. He leaned over enough to kiss his forehead. “It’s gonna be okay, Pattycakes. I swear to you, I’ll make this okay somehow.”

                                                                        *****

It was close to midnight when Pete was woken up from his doze by Patrick stirring in his arms. Yawning, he looked down, smiling when the singer looked up. “Hey you.”

Patrick managed a wan smile back. “Hey you.” He rubbed his aching eyes, sniffling. “Sorry for the waterworks.”

Pete shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Nose stuffed up, head aches,” Patrick laid his head back down. “And I’m tired.”

Leaning down, Pete kissed the top of his head. “I think I can fix some of that if you let me up?” he offered. “Tea and Tylenol?”

Patrick slowly sat up, letting Pete drape the blanket around his shoulders. “Thank you,” he murmured, kissing Pete’s cheek.

“Anytime, baby.” He patted Patrick’s knee. “Be right back.”

Ten minutes later he came back with a bottle of Tylenol in one hand and a steaming cup in the other. He handed both over before sitting back down. “Hemmy?”

Patrick nodded in the direction of the sliding glass door. “He’s by the back door. I think he’s asleep.”

Pete nodded before turning his attention back to Patrick. “What can I do?” he asked softly.

Patrick smiled. “You’re doing it. You’re here.” His voice was just as soft. He took a long sip of his tea before tossing back two little white pills. “That means more than you think, not dealing with this alone.”

“I remember how it was, after I tried,” Pete confessed, nodding. “I still get nightmares about it sometimes, if the day gets too bad and I get lost in my head.”

Patrick shot him a concerned look. “You never say.”

A small smile appeared on Pete’s face. “Because being around you usually brings me back. You’re like a trail of bread crumbs.”

Patrick burst out laughing. “Pretty sure I’ve never been compared to that before.”

“It’s true,” Pete insisted, still grinning. “And I love you for it.”

“I love you, too. For this, for everything you’ve done.” Patrick’s voice was soft. “But mostly just for being you.”

“Then tell me what I can do.” Taking Patrick’s free hand in his, Pete twined their fingers together. “I want to help. Any way I can.”

Patrick was quiet for a long moment as he sipped his tea. “I don’t know,” he said finally, sounding unsure.

“I could talk to your mom,” Pete suggested. He gritted his teeth, steeling himself for what he was about to say next. “Or Elisa if you want. Explain things to them.” He would hate to do it, hate to be polite to the bitch who had hurt his Patrick so badly, but if the singer asked, he would.

Patrick shook his head. “No.” His voice was soft but firm, final. “Elisa and I…we’re done. No amount of explaining things would bring her back and right now I wouldn’t want her back anyway. She made her choice and I’ve made mine.” Putting his cup down, he turned to look at Pete, his gaze softening. “I may have loved her, but I’m in love with you.”

Pete couldn’t help smiling at Patrick’s heartfelt declaration. “And your mom?” he prompted gently.

Patrick was silent for a long moment. “No,” he finally said, his voice soft and sad. “Leave it.”

Pete’s heart ached at the tone of his lover’s voice. _Broken_ , he couldn’t help thinking. His baby sounded heartsick and resigned, but mostly he sounded broken. “Patrick,” he began, not knowing what to say but knowing he had to say something. “Baby…”

“No, Pete,” Patrick said, shaking his head. “Just…no. Because I know what she’ll try to do. She’ll try to make me choose. You or her.” There was a pause. “And even though I love her, I’d choose you.”

Pete’s dark eyes went wide; he hadn’t expected that kind of declaration from Patrick, lover or not. “Patrick…sweetheart…she’s your mom.”

“I know she is. But she’s going to have to accept the fact that you’re the person I’m in love with and spending my life with if she wants anything to do with me. I’m not hiding this anymore and I’m not giving you up.” He looked up and their eyes met. “Not for anything.”

The look Pete gave him next was one of pure admiration. “You’re amazing. Did you know that?”

Patrick shook his head, a blush rising to his cheeks. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. To me you are.” Leaning over, Pete gave Patrick a firm kiss. “Fucking incredible.”

“I love you,” Patrick said simply. “You make me happy. I’ll be damned if I’m going to give up one of the few things in my life that makes me happy just because my mother is a homophobic bigot.”

Letting Patrick’s hand go, Pete began rubbing his shoulder. “Maybe she’ll come around,” he said, trying to sound hopeful.

“Maybe.” Patrick didn’t sound convinced. “It’s up to her. I just…I can’t go back and try and convince her. Not right now.”

“Of course you can’t right now,” Pete said, leaning close enough to kiss Patrick’s temple. “You need to worry about you right now. Let the rest go for the time being, okay? It’ll work itself out.”

Patrick heaved another sigh. “Okay,” he breathed. “Okay.”

Gently drawing away, Pete stood up and held out his hand. “Come on. Up to bed,” he coaxed, wiggling his fingers. “You look pretty beat and I know I am. We’ll sleep in tomorrow.”

Patrick managed a wan smile as he took Pete’s hand and stood up. “Sounds good to me.” Together they went upstairs.

                                                                        *****

The next morning, Patrick awoke to the soft sound of water running. Opening his eyes, he glanced over at the other side of the bed; Hemmingway was lying in the middle of the rumpled up sheets and comforter. “Hey, boy,” he murmured, reaching over to scratch his ears. “Where’s daddy?”

Hemmy barked and jumped off the bed, pausing to scratch at the closed bathroom door before heading into the hallway. Patrick listened for a moment. _Shower_ , he realized. _Pete’s taking a shower._ An image suddenly sprang to mind of Pete naked and wet, head tilted back under the spray as water cascaded down his body to pool at his bare feet.

Patrick let out a soft moan as his cock suddenly hardened within the confines of his underwear. He couldn’t help but be a little surprised; usually he didn’t become aroused quite so quickly. The thought of a naked, tattooed Pete covered in water and soap bubbles however, was quickly turning him on past all reason.

Stripping off his briefs, Patrick wrapped a hand around his cock and slowly stroked himself until he was fully hard. He let himself drift, caressing himself with his fingertips as he imagined just what Pete was doing in the bathroom. Was he just washing himself, concentrating on getting clean? Or was he doing what Patrick was doing right now, jerking off to relieve some tension before coming back to bed?

_What if he sees me like this?_ he suddenly thought, the idea sending a jolt of arousal through him. _What if he comes out of the bathroom right now and sees me with my hand on my dick? What would he do?_ He could picture a dozen different scenarios; Pete leaning over him, batting his hands away before taking his cock in his mouth. Or replacing Patrick’s hand with his own, stroking him until he came all over those clever hands while moaning the bassist’s name.

He was just beginning to picture Pete on top of him, pinning him to the bed while he moved in between Patrick’s spread legs when he heard a gasp. He opened his eyes to see Pete standing by the now opened bathroom door, water still dripping from his hair and a towel wrapped around his waist. “Started without you.”

“Jesus fuck, Patrick,” Pete breathed, his eyes wide. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

“So are you.” Patrick held out his free hand, beckoning with his fingers. “Come here.”

Pete grasped Patrick’s fingers and let himself be pulled back onto the bed. “Feel good, baby?” he asked as he watched his lover slowly stroke his erection.

“Mmm hmm.” Patrick bit his lip, stifling a gasp as he thumbed the slit, spreading the fluid leaking out all over the head of his cock. He tugged on the hand he was holding, trying to draw Pete even closer. “Pete…please. Touch me.”

Pete suddenly grinned. “Oh, no. Not this time. I like to watch, remember?” He leaned back against the pillows, his eyes going from Patrick’s hard cock to his flushed face. “Go on, baby. Make yourself come.”

A shudder ran through Patrick as he went back to stroking his cock. “Little weird,” he breathed. “Never…never had an audience before.”

“You should see yourself. Fucking gorgeous.” Pete leaned closer, brushing a kiss against Patrick’s parted lips. “So beautiful.”

“So are you,” Patrick managed to get out, his gaze lingering on Pete’s dusky skin and the dark lines of his tattoos. “Gorgeous.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Pete whispered, grinning when Patrick’s cheeks became even redder. “You’re thinking of something sexy, aren’t you? Come on, baby…tell me what.”

“You,” Patrick said, biting his lip. “Like this…only you’re on top of me…pinning me to the bed.” He closed his eyes. “And you’re inside me. I can feel you deep in me…fucking me…making me come.” A shudder went thorough Patrick’s frame. “God, Pete…please.”

“You want that, baby?” Pete asked softly. “Want me deep inside you, loving you?” Patrick whimpered and nodded, his hand moving faster. “I will, then. Make yourself come and I’ll do exactly what you’re thinking about.” Leaning closer, Pete nipped at his earlobe as he breathed into Patrick’s ear. “I’ll pin you to the bed, get between your legs and make you fucking scream.”

Patrick’s head fell back against the pillows, a loud groan escaping his lips as he came, semen spilling all over his fingers. Pete held him close as he shuddered, letting him sag against him until he was still. “Okay, baby?” he whispered.

Patrick’s eyes flickered open and he managed a faint smile. “Mmm…wonderful.” His eyes widened as Pete took his come slick fingers and slowly licked them clean. “Oh, God.”

“Delicious.” Pete licked his lips. “So sweet.”

Grasping his shoulders, Patrick pulled Pete on top of him, the bassist’s towel falling aside and exposing his erection. “Do it,” he breathed, wiggling under him insistently. “Do it, Pete. Fuck me.”

“Love you, sweetheart,” Pete corrected softly, punctuating the words with a kiss. “Gonna love you. Just…give me a minute.” He reached over to open the bedside table drawer, rummaging around in it for a moment. He pulled out a bottle of lube, grinning as he did so. “There it is.”

Patrick’s eyes widened as he watched Pete slick up his fingers. “You’re gonna…” He didn’t finish.

Pete nodded. “Gotta get you ready for me. Don’t want to ever hurt you.” He gave the other man a lingering kiss as he slid his hand under Patrick’s ass and carefully stroked a finger over his lover’s hole. “Easy, sweetheart,” he crooned as Patrick shivered. “It’s okay. Just relax.”

Patrick let out a sigh as Pete slowly worked a finger in. “Feels weird,” he breathed, laughing a little.

Pete smiled as well. “I know,” he said as he turned one finger into two, drawing a low moan out of Patrick. “That’s it, baby. Little more.”

Biting his lip, Patrick wiggled under him impatiently. “Please,” he begged, his fingers digging into Pete’s tattooed arms. “God, Pete…please…” He suddenly cried out, his hazel eyes going wide. “God!”

Pete’s smile turned into a grin. “I think I found something,” he sing-songed, flicking the tip of his finger over the little lump he could feel deep inside his lover, drawing an even louder cry out of him. “That’s it, sweetheart. Sing for me. Let me hear you.”

“Oh, God.” Patrick’s voice was shaking. “Fuck, Pete…what did you do?”

“Prostate,” Pete said as he wiggled his fingers, delighting in the long, drawn out groan he coaxed out of Patrick. “God, Patrick…so perfect.” Slowly drawing his fingers out, he lubed up his own cock and moved in between the singer’s legs. “I love you,” he whispered, brushing his lips against Patrick’s.

Patrick slid his arms around Pete’s neck. “I love you.” Both men groaned as Pete slowly entered Patrick, not stopping until he was all the way in.

They paused for a long moment, foreheads pressed together. “You feel good, baby,” Pete said, his voice shaking a little.

“So do you. God, Pete.” Patrick’s voice was shaking as well. “So good.” He let out another low groan as Pete began to slowly thrust. “Oh…that’s it…”

“Beautiful baby,” Pete breathed as he moved, trying to be careful. “So fucking gorgeous. So perfect.”

“Yes…yes…please, Pete…yes,” Patrick repeated over and over, his cries becoming louder with every move, every stroke. “Oh, God...please, love…please…”

“Yes,” Pete gasped, running his fingers over Patrick’s flushed cheeks. “That’s it, sweetheart. Come on. Come for me, baby.” He gave the man under him a hard kiss, his eyes glued to Patrick’s face. “I want to watch you come.”

Patrick whined and began moving his hips in time with Pete’s, meeting every thrust with one of his own. “Harder,” he said through gritted teeth. “Harder, Pete... I’m…Oh, God, I’m gonna…” He cried out, screaming Pete’s name as he came, spurting all over both of their bellies.

Pete watched, drinking in the sight of Patrick’s orgasm before his own overtook him in a rush. “Fuck…Patrick!” Burying his face in Patrick’s shaking shoulder, he let out one last shuddering groan of his own before coming deep inside him.

They sagged against each other, holding one another close as they caught their breath. Patrick came back to himself with Pete scattering kisses along his cheeks and over his nose, murmuring all the while. “So beautiful,” he said over and over. “My gorgeous Patrick…so damn perfect.”

“Pete,” Patrick breathed, reaching up to cup his lover’s face in his hands in order to give him a lingering kiss. “My Pete…you’re wonderful.” He ran his hands over the bassist’s tattooed arms. “You’re gonna need another shower.”

“Mmm…and you definitely need one.” Pete nuzzled Patrick’s ear, causing him to giggle in response. “We could share one maybe? Or a bath? The tub is a Jacuzzi big enough for two.”

“That sounds wonderful, love.” Smiling, Patrick wrapped his arms back around Pete’s neck. “Thank you.”

Pete’s grin softened as he drew Patrick into a kiss. “Anytime, baby,” he murmured. “Anytime.”

                                                                        *****

The moment Patrick opened the door, he was enveloped in a hard, enthusiastic hug. “Joe!” he laughed, hugging back. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Joe drew away enough to survey Patrick with a critical eye before grinning and hugging him again. “You look good, man. Lala land must be agreeing with you okay.”

Patrick fought back a blush, only partially succeeding. “Parts of it are,” he agreed. The minute Joe let him go to clap Pete on the shoulder, Patrick was immediately pulled into an even harder hug that lifted him off his feet. “Ooff! God, Andy! Are you still lifting? I think your muscles got even bigger!”

Andy laughed softly as he put Patrick down, patting him on the back before letting him go. “It’s good to see you okay,” he said, looking Patrick over as well. “You are okay?”

“Better than I was.” They followed Joe and Pete into the living room, Andy’s arm still casually wrapped around Patrick’s shoulder. “And I am doing better. The meds I’m on are helping a lot and I’ve been talking to someone.” He nodded toward Pete, who was waving his hand around in answer to something Joe was saying. “And Pete’s been a godsend through all this.”

One of Andy’s eyebrows went up. “Has he now?” he echoed and Patrick’s cheeks suddenly went red. “Was worried a little when you decided to stay out here. I mean, you and Pete can be a little combustible sometimes, you know?” Without waiting for an answer, Andy continued, smiling. “But it’s good to know he’s taking care of you.”

Patrick nodded, still blushing. “He is.”

Just then, Pete broke in. “What are you saying to my Pattycakes, Hurley?” he asked, his dark eyes narrowing suspiciously. “I’ve never seen him that shade of red before.”

“Just making sure you’re treating him right,” Andy said good-naturedly as he slowly slid his arm off Patrick’s shoulder. “He seems to be in one piece.”

“Of course he is!” Pete said, indignant as his arm replaced Andy’s around Patrick’s shoulder. “I’ve been taking excellent care of my Lunchbox.” He turned to look at Patrick for confirmation. “Haven’t I?’

Hearing the faintest trace of doubt in Pete’s voice, Patrick reached up and took his hand, squeezing his fingers. “Wonderful care,” he said, nodding. He smiled when Pete grinned at him before turning to look at Andy. “You don’t have to worry on that score. Pete’s been wonderful. With everything.”

Andy suddenly snickered. “Well, that certainly explains why you’re walking funny.”

Patrick hid his red face in Pete’s broad shoulder as the bassist tightened his hold around him. “No teasing my Lunchbox,” he said, suddenly serious. “Only I can do that.” Andy held up both hands in surrender as Pete drew Patrick away enough to whisper in his ear. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Patrick looked up, smiling sheepishly. “Just…good sore. You know?”

Pete smiled as well. “I definitely know. And I’m hoping for another dose of it sometime in the near future.” He gave Patrick a loud, smacking kiss before drawing away fully. “Tea?”

Patrick nodded. “Thanks.” He went to sit with Joe in the living room as Andy followed Pete into the kitchen.

“Is he really okay?” Andy asked as he pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge.

“He’s doing a lot better,” Pete said as he put the kettle on. He poked his head out the kitchen doorway. “Joe, what’s your poison?”

“Coffee,” Joe said immediately as he sat down on the couch across from Patrick and sagged against the cushions. “Maybe if I drink enough I can kick this jet lag’s ass.”

Pete frowned, looking doubtful. “Not sure we have that much coffee, but I’ll give it a shot.” Going back into the kitchen, Pete turned on the coffee maker. “Like he said, he’s been taking his meds and talking to a therapist. And it’s helping. It’s really been helping him.”

Andy nodded. “He seems a lot more upbeat than he was during the last leg of the tour.” He took a sip of his water. “And from everything else I just saw, I’m guessing you finally both pulled your heads out of your asses and said something to each other?”

Pete’s cheeks darkened as he pulled three oversized mugs out of the overhead cupboard. “Yeah. It actually ended up during a fight, but yeah, we did.”

Andy rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised about that?” he remarked dryly. “Oh, yeah. Because the day you two don’t argue is the day I laser off my left arm tattoos.”

“We’re not that bad,” Pete denied as he put a spoonful of honey and a teabag into one of the cups. He put three spoonfuls of sugar into another.

“Close enough.” Andy toasted Pete with his water bottle. “Seriously, though? Congrats, man. It’s about damn time.”

“And that had nothing to do with me,” Pete said as he poured coffee into two of the mugs. “He was happy before. And I wasn’t going to fuck that up for him.”

“I know.” Andy began opening drawers, looking for spoons. Pulling out three, he stuck them into the cups. “But don’t tell me you’re not glad Elisa’s not in the picture anymore. You never did like her.”

Pete nodded in agreement. “True. And after what she did to Patrick, I like her even less.” He poured hot water into the third cup. “And if I ever fucking see her again she’ll find out just how much.” Picking up two cups, Pete nodded toward the third. “Can you grab Joe’s?”

Picking up the other cup, Andy followed Pete out into the living room and handed it over as he sat down next to Joe. “That bad, huh?” he asked as Joe immediately drank half of it in one gulp.

“Marie’s having morning sickness at midnight. I was up half the night holding her hair back while she threw up in the toilet,” Joe explained as he watched Pete hand over Patrick’s tea. His eyes narrowed as he watched his band mates smile at each other, then widened as Pete brushed a kiss across Patrick’s forehead. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he exclaimed, waving his hand. “What’s that?”

Both Pete and Patrick looked up. “What’s what?” Pete asked, confused.

“That!” Joe sat up straight, frowning a little. “You guys don’t do stuff like that.”

Pete and Patrick looked at each other for a long moment before Pete raised an eyebrow in question. When Patrick nodded in return, Pete looked at Joe and grinned. “We do now,” he said. “We also do stuff like this.” Leaning over the back of the couch, Pete drew the redhead into a gentle kiss.

Andy hid a smile behind his hand as Joe stared, his mouth open. “Since fucking when?” he asked when they finally let each other go.

Pete smiled as he sat down to a clearly dazed Patrick. “Since about a week after he decided to stay with me. Right, babe?”

Patrick shook his head to clear it before taking a sip of his tea. “That’s about right.”

Joe continued to stare, a look of pure disbelief on his face as he watched Pete slide his arm around Patrick’s shoulders. He turned to look at Andy. “I’m really seeing this, right?”

Andy nodded. “You’re really seeing this.”

Joe turned his attention back to Pete and Patrick. “And it’s serious? I mean…you two are together? Not just fucking around, I mean?”

They both nodded. “What’s on your mind, Joe?” Pete asked mildly. “Something is. I can tell by the look on your face.”

“Just want to make sure things are on the up and up, is all,” Joe said as he put his coffee cup down on the table and leaned forward. “I mean, you’ve wanted Patrick for as long as you’ve known him. And he’s resisted you for just as long. And now all of a sudden he’s not and he’s staying here and you two are…whatever you are?” There was a pause. “You see what I’m getting at here?”

Pete opened his mouth, about to say something in retort when Patrick spoke first. “It’s not like that, Joe.”

“It’s not?”

“No, it’s not,” Pete broke in testily. “I’ve been in love with him since he was sixteen, for fuck’s sake. And if you honestly think I’d do anything to hurt him in that way…especially after everything that’s gone on…”

Joe glared back. “Of course not. It’s just that especially with everything going on…”

“Joe.” Patrick raised his voice enough to get his friend’s attention. “It’s okay. Really.” He put his hand on Pete’s knee. “This…us…it’s good. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Joe gave both of them another long, measured look before settling back against the couch cushions. “Okay.”

“That’s it?” Pete asked, still looking pissed. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Reaching out to grab his cup, Joe took another long sip. “I trust Patrick’s judgment and I trust yours. Which is more than I could’ve said four years ago right before everything went to hell. But you’ve both changed since then. And that’s a good thing. Besides, it’s not like me and Andy didn’t know this,” He waved his free hand at the two of them. “Wasn’t gonna happen eventually.” He eyed Pete. “You never were subtle, man.”

Pete shrugged, smiling a little. “Young, stupid and unmedicated. That’s the only excuse I got for back then.”

“Yeah…well…I got one other thing to say about this and then I’ll shut up.” Joe’s eyes suddenly turned hard. “You hurt Patrick like you did before, and I’ll kick your ass all the way back to Chicago.”

Patrick opened his mouth, about to protest, when Pete put a hand over the one on his knee and squeezed it gently. “If I hurt him like that again, I’ll let you and I won’t fight back.” His voice was serious. He nodded to Andy. “And you’re more than welcome to help him. If things ever get that bad again, I’m gonna need my ass kicked by the two of you just to knock the sense back into my head.”

Patrick shot both of his band mates an annoyed look. “Are you two done with all the male posturing bullshit?”

Joe thought for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah.”

Pete didn’t hesitate to nod as well. “Yeah.”

Patrick rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You two are ridiculous.”

Andy raised an eyebrow. “And this still surprises you why?”

“God only knows.” Patrick turned to look at Pete, who suddenly grinned. “You. You’re ridiculous,” he repeated, wanting to make sure Pete understood.

Somehow Pete’s grin became even wider. “You love ridiculous.”

Heaving a melodramatic sigh, Patrick found himself smiling as well. “Yeah, kinda do,” he admitted before Pete pulled him into another kiss.

Joe sighed as he watched. “They’re gonna be doing this all the time now, aren’t they?” he asked Andy.

“Pretty safe bet,” Andy agreed, sipping his water.

“Damn right we are,” Pete said when he pulled away, leaving Patrick once again more than a little dazed. “We’ve got thirteen years to make up for.”

“Which reminds me.” Andy held out his hand palm up to Joe. “Pay up.”

Joe stated at him. “Seriously? You’re seriously gonna make me pay up for this?”

Andy raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who suggested it in the first place.”

“It was after that show in St. Louis six years ago! I was so high I didn’t straighten out for at least a day and a half later!” Joe protested half-heartedly. “I would’ve suggested anything at that point!”

Andy kept his hand out. “Don’t care. You lost. Pay up.”

Cursing under his breath, Joe pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out two twenties and a ten. He handed the bills over without another word.

Meanwhile, Pete and Patrick were staring at them. “What’s all this?” Pete finally asked.

Joe and Andy looked at each other. “Your bet. You explain,” Andy finally said, tucking the bills into his jeans pocket.

Joe sighed before turning back to Pete and Patrick. “We had a bet going,” he finally confessed, ducking his head.

“About us?” Pete asked and Joe nodded. “What kind of bet are we talking about here?” When Joe hesitated Pete’s eyes narrowed. “Joe…”

“It wasn’t anything you hadn’t done yourself way back when,” Joe retorted. “Andy and I had a little difference of opinion about when the two of you might have gotten together, that’s all.” He gestured at the drummer. “He said you two hadn’t done anything yet and I figured that maybe you had worn Patrick down enough so there was at least a drunken hand job or you two blowing each other in a dressing room in there somewhere what with how long we’ve known each other and how you two are together and everything.”

They both stared at him. “You actually bet on our love life?” Patrick asked, his voice going up half an octave.

“Well…kinda yeah,” Joe admitted, a sheepish look crossing his face as he ran a hand through his curls. “Sorry, man. In my defense, I was really fucked up at the time. Like, more than usual. ”

Meanwhile, Pete surveyed an innocent looking Andy. “Andrew, are you going to tell him? Or shall I?”

“Bet still counts. Neither one of us knew anything when we made it,” Andy commented as he sipped his water.

Joe’s eyes narrowed as he turned his attention back to Andy. “Tell me what?”

When Andy didn’t speak up Pete did it for him. “Andy already knew we weren’t together,” he said. He turned to Patrick, who had a questioning look on his face. “At the hospital, while you were…you know…Andy and I had a little heart-to-heart about things, how deep my feelings went.” He paused, his voice softening. “He said you needed…that I should tell you how I really felt, because you needed to know that someone loved you.”

Patrick blushed, burying his face in Pete’s shoulder. “Love you,” he murmured.

Pete brushed a kiss against Patrick’s forehead, pulling him even closer. “Love you, too, Lunchbox.”

Meanwhile, Joe was back to glaring at Andy. “You’ve known about this for how long?” he asked incredulously. “And you didn’t say a fucking word about it? I want my money back.”

“Bet still counts,” Andy said firmly. “I just had insider information.”

“You know, I really think we should get a cut of that,” Pete commented. “Seeing as I was the one furnishing the information and everything.”

“And I still can’t believe you bet on us in the first place,” Patrick added, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

Facing three pairs of glaring eyes, Andy sighed and caved. “How about I use the money for pizza?” he suggested, digging the bills back out of his pocket.

Looking at each other, Patrick and Pete both nodded. “Joe?” Pete prompted.

After a moment of consideration, Joe nodded as well. “I accept your counter offer.” He looked at Pete next. “You **do** get pizza delivery out here in the sticks of LA, right?”

Pete laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

                                                                        *****

After the pizza was mostly demolished, Joe and Andy traded looks before the guitarist turned to Patrick. “Patrick…can we ask you something, man?”

The singer nodded. “Sure.” A small smile crossed his face. “I don’t guarantee I’ll answer, though.”

Joe nodded. “Fair enough.” He swallowed hard, trying to find the words he needed to say what he was thinking. Finally, he settled for blunt. “Everything that’s happened the past couple weeks…the end of the tour…you in the hospital…not going back to Chicago…you and Pete…me and Andy knew a lot of it was a long time coming. Especially you two.” He waved a hand at the picture in front of him; Pete had his arm back around Patrick’s shoulder and the singer’s hand was resting on the bassist’s knee with the two of them pressed together from shoulder to ankle. “But a lot of it, Andy and I didn’t have the first clue about.” He bit his lip before continuing. “And we just wanted to know…did something happen to push you over the edge?” He paused. “Did we do something?”

Patrick’s eyes went wide. “No!” he said immediately, drawing away from Pete enough to grab at Joe’s hands. “No, Joe. You didn’t do anything!”

Joe continued on. “Because if we did…we want to know if we…you know…”

Patrick shook his head. “You didn’t. I swear to God you didn’t do anything.” He looked at Andy, who had a serious expression on his face as well. “Either of you.”

“Didn’t we do something, then?” Joe persisted, clutching at Patrick’s fingers.

“No…nothing.” Patrick took a deep breath and continued. “Joe…what I did…it had nothing to do with either of you, I swear.” He squeezed Joe’s fingers. “Nothing.”

Andy glanced at Pete. “But it did have something to do with Pete,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Patrick and Pete shared a look before the bassist nodded. “Yeah,” Pete said, his voice soft. “Yeah, it did.”

They were all silent for a long moment. “Can you…will you tell us why?” Joe finally asked. “I mean, if you don’t want to and it’s none of our business just tell us to shut the fuck up and we well. No problem.” He paused. “But we want to understand. I mean, you scared the fuck out of us, Trick.”

“I’m sorry,” Patrick whispered, tears shining in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I just…I couldn’t.” A shudder went through him and he immediately curled up against Pete. “I just…I couldn’t deal with everything anymore then, you know?” A shuddering breath escaped him. “It was…it got too hard.”

“Shh, baby,” Pete soothed, brushing a kiss against Patrick’s temple. “It’s okay. I got you.” He glared at his band mates. “He doesn’t owe you an explanation. Either of you.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Andy agreed, his voice calm. “But we want to help if we can.”

Pete was about to say more when Patrick slid a hand over his. “Pete…it’s okay.”

He looked down at his lover’s pale face, frowning a little. “Is it?” he asked softly. “You don’t have to.”

“I think maybe I do.” Patrick drew away enough to look at his band mates, seeing the worry on both of their faces. “They shouldn’t look so worried about me.” He looked at Pete. “You shouldn’t, either.”

“I like worrying about you,” was the quiet reply. “I like making sure you’re okay, have what you need. Whatever I can do.” He gave Patrick another kiss. “I love you.”

“And so do we,” Andy said with Joe nodding in agreement. “You’re our brother, man. We’re gonna worry.” There was a pause. “Will you tell us, Patrick? Please? We want to understand why and right now…we kinda don’t.”

After a moment, Patrick heaved a sigh. “It’s a pretty long story.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Joe said with a shrug. Seeing Patrick’s continued hesitation, he then said quietly, “Seriously, man…you don’t want to, just tell us to shut the fuck up and leave you be. We get if it’s none of our business.”

Patrick looked at the two men sitting in front of him. There was no anger or annoyance on their faces – only caring and concern. _They need to know_ , he thought. He really didn’t want to go through the whole story again – it still hurt, even with Pete sitting next to him, fierce protectiveness practically radiating off of him, even with the continued passing of time and distance. But they needed to know. After everything they had been through because of him, after lying to everyone they knew just to keep him safe…Joe and Andy at least deserved to know why.

He reached up to touch Pete’s hand on his shoulder, drawing the bassist’s arm even tighter around him. A sigh escaped him when Pete responded with another brush of a kiss against his cheek. “Elisa left,” he finally said mostly to Joe; he couldn’t remember at this point whether or not he has told the guitarist.

“Kinda figured,” Joe said dryly. He waved his hand at him and Pete again. “I mean, you wouldn’t be camped out here and together with Pete if your girl was still in the picture.”

Andy nodded. “And I knew, but only because you told me that one morning on tour.” He leaned in, wanting to make sure he heard everything correctly. “What happened? You were pretty happy when you went home for break the last time.”

Patrick nodded. “I was going to ask her to marry me.” He felt Pete’s fingers tighten around him and he leaned even closer, taking comfort in the embrace. “Instead, I got back to the condo and found her packing her things. We had a screaming fight where she accused me of cheating on her.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “She thought…she was sure Pete and I were sleeping together. Only at that time, we weren’t.”

Both Joe and Andy stared at the pair of them. “Christ, talk about ironic,” Joe finally said.

“Yeah.” Patrick continued on. “I kept telling her that we weren’t. That we were friends and that was it. But she wouldn’t believe me. Kept going on about me saying his name in my sleep and how I put him first before everyone else and how she wasn’t going to play second best to him anymore.” He shook his head. “I’m still not sure where all that came from.”

Joe and Andy looked at each other. “Seriously?” Joe asked, an eyebrow raised. “You two have been living out of each other’s pockets for fucking years, man. Everybody saw it. The only time you weren’t was…well…”

“Right before the hiatus,” Pete finished, his voice quiet. “When we were fighting.”

“Yeah.” A questioning look crossed Joe’s face. “Ashlee?”

“She knew,” was the bassist’s soft reply. “Granted, I was pretty fucked up at the time, too but she knew how I felt about Patrick, how much he meant to me.” He shrugged. “She couldn’t deal with it, my heart belonging to another person along with her. Which I can’t really blame her for.”

Andy turned his attention to Patrick. “And you…you never realized? Never guessed? I mean, he was pretty obvious about it.”

Patrick shrugged. “I just thought Pete was being…you know…Pete.”

“In other words, an obnoxious ass,” Pete supplied, grinning.

Patrick shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

“I know. And you wouldn’t even if it was true. Which it damn well was.” Pete paused. “Everyone saw it except you.”

Another shrug. “I always was oblivious when it came to you. I don’t know why.”

“Maybe not oblivious,” Andy corrected. “Just…with Pete, you were focused on the music more than anything. Maybe that’s what Elisa saw.”

“Maybe.” Patrick didn’t look convinced. “All I know is it took her screaming at me that I was in love with Pete and that he was who I had given my heart to for me to realize that maybe I had and that I probably was. And probably had been for years.” He ran his free hand through his red hair. “It took me nearly two hours to wrap my head around it after she stormed out. I just sat in the condo with the engagement ring in my pocket, staring up at the ceiling and having an identity crisis.”

“You could have called one of us, you know,” Joe said, frowning a little.

Patrick shook his head, frowning as well. “You were with Marie and there was no way in hell I was going to interrupt that with my drama.” He looked at Andy next. “You were in Texas doing that Crossfit tournament thing that you had been training for over the last three months.” He then turned to Pete. “And you know why I didn’t call you.”

Pete nodded. “I was here,” he explained for the others benefit. “And it wasn’t something he felt comfortable talking to me about over the phone.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” There was a pause. “So I called my mom.”

Andy winced, while Joe asked, “And you told her? Everything?”

“Everything,” Patrick confirmed. “Barely got in the door and to the kitchen table before it all just spilled out. Everything Elisa had said…everything I had felt about her…about Pete…how much I loved him…how much I wanted him.” At Joe’s wide eyes Patrick nodded again, a shaky little grimace on his face. “I didn’t leave out a damn thing. Trust me on that one.”

“It didn’t go over all that well, did it?” Andy asked quietly. When there was no answer Andy shook his head, a sympathetic look crossing his face. “How bad?”

“She said that there were certain things she couldn’t accept and me being in love with another man was one of them.” Patrick swiped at his eyes with his free hand, still clinging to Pete’s fingers with the other. “Told me to leave and not come back until I had straightened myself out.” He paused for a moment before shrugging. “So I left.”

“Jesus fuck,” Joe muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, man.”

Andy reached out and patted Patrick’s knee. “Have you talked to her since? Or Elisa?”

Patrick shook his head again. “I keep reaching for the phone wanting to call Mom. Sometimes I actually pick it up before I remember she doesn’t want anything to do with me.” He swiped at his eyes again, pushing away tears with his fingers. “As for Elisa…when the condo sold I had my lawyer send her the check at first. She sent it back unopened and when he…when he called her to tell her what it was…she said that if I tried to contact her again she’d call the cops, slap a restraining order against me.”

Joe stared while Andy muttered a curse under his breath. Neither one of them missed Pete tightening his hold on Patrick, pulling the singer even closer as he pressed kisses against his hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart,” he murmured.

“You keep telling me that,” Patrick said, trying for a smile and not succeeding.

“I’m hoping that if I say it enough you’ll eventually believe me,” Pete said quietly.

Patrick closed his eyes, but not before a lone tear slipped out and slid down his pale cheek. “That…that might take a while.”

“Why?” Joe asked, suddenly confused. “Pete’s right. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Andy nodded. “You can’t blame yourself for how other people feel, Trick,” he added. “You try to live your life trying to make other people happy all the time and you’re gonna twist yourself into a damn pretzel.”

“I know.” Patrick’s voice was soft and sad. “I just…I wish they understood, that’s all. Elisa…I don’t expect her ever to. Especially after all this. But Mom…I was hoping…I thought…”

“You thought she’d take it better than she did,” Andy finished for him and Patrick nodded.

“Because…because she’s always been there, you know? Through everything. And then all of a sudden she wasn’t. All of a sudden she just looked so disgusted with what I said…with who I was…with **me**.” The tears were coming more freely now, streaking Patrick’s cheeks. “And I couldn’t…I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t talk to her. I couldn’t tell you guys…”

“Why not?” Joe asked, the confused look reappearing on his face. “You could have, man.” He reached out again to put a hand on Patrick’s knee. “I thought you knew that. With everything we’ve been through over the years, you can tell us fucking anything and it’s not gonna change things.”

“Not this,” Patrick managed to get out, his voice catching on a sob. “Lying to all of you for so long…hiding how I felt…who I was. I just felt so dirty, so disgusted with myself. And the longer it went on, the worse it got. Because I knew that if you ever found out, you’d hate me, too.” He suddenly crumpled in Pete’s arms, the sobs coming full force. “And I couldn’t take the chance. You were all I had left…”

Tears in his own eyes, Joe immediately moved next to Patrick and pulled him into his arms, hugging him as tightly as he could. Gesturing to Andy, Pete got up from the couch, one hand lingering briefly on Patrick’s head before letting it fall. “Go on. Hang on to him and try to get him to calm down a little if you can,” he murmured, pushing the drummer into the seat he had just vacated. “I’m gonna get his meds and some water.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

Hesitating only a moment, Andy sat down and slid his tattooed arms around Patrick’s waist, hugging the singer from behind. “We don’t hate you, Trick,” he said softly. “You’re our friend…our band mate…our brother. We love you, man.”

“So much,” Joe added softly. “So fucking much, man. We can’t lose you. Not ever.” He ran his hand back and forth over Patrick’s shaking shoulders in an effort to comfort, to soothe. “Shh…it’s okay, Trick. It’s okay.”

When Pete came back a moment later with a pill bottle in one hand and water in the other, Andy looked up at him. “He’s shaking like he’s gonna fly apart any minute,” he said softly, an edge of fear creeping into his voice. “And he’s not stopping, no matter what we say to him.”

Pete bit his lip, nodding. “Anxiety attack. He gets them sometimes.” Sitting on the coffee table, Pete reached out to touch Patrick’s shoulder. “Trick…baby…it’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here, Joe’s here, Andy’s here. We got you.” He brushed his fingers through Patrick’s hair, keeping his voice as low and soothing as he possibly could. “You’re not alone, baby. We got you.”

Finally, the sobs tapered off into sniffles and ragged breathing, with Patrick drawing away from Joe enough to wipe his eyes. “Sorry,” he managed to get out.

“For what?” Joe asked. “Seriously, Trick…what the ever loving fuck are you apologizing for?”

Patrick thought for a moment. “Basket case?”

“You’re not. So shut up.” Andy’s voice was firm. “You’re doing a hell of a lot better than I’d be right now.”

“Me, too,” Joe added with a decisive nod.

“And we all know I’d probably be curled up in a ball in the nearest corner,” Pete put in. “So it’s unanimous. You’re not a basket case.” Holding up the pill bottle, Pete rattled it in front of Patrick’s nose. “You should take one of these.”

Patrick didn’t argue, didn’t even attempt to protest. Instead, he held out his hand and let Pete shake one out onto his palm, waiting for him to open the water bottle before swallowing it down. “Thank you,” he said softly, managing a faint smile as he handed the bottle back.

“Any time, sweetheart,” Pete said, smiling as well. “Let me get you a washcloth or some tissues or something.”

To everyone’s surprise, Patrick shook his head. “Bathroom,” he said as he drew away fully from Joe and Andy before getting to his feet. “I’ll be right back.” He made his way out of the living room and down the hall, one hand pressed against the wall for support as he walked.

The moment Patrick was out of earshot, Andy turned to Pete. “Shouldn’t you be with him?”

Pete shook his head. “He’s okay. He doesn’t like me hovering after he gets upset like that,” he said, smiling a little. “Says I’m not a helicopter.”

Andy snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like Trick.” There was a pause. “Seriously, though…he’s okay?”

Pete nodded. “Good days and bad, like everything.” Picking up Patrick’s empty cup, he walked into the kitchen and put the kettle back on. “He gets upset talking about it, but he needs to. He just gets more and more depressed if he doesn’t.”

Andy nodded as he pulled another bottle of water out of the fridge. “So what are you going to do about Elisa and his mom?”

“He asked me not to,” Pete said as he spooned honey into Patrick’s cup, not making eye contact with either Andy or Joe.

Joe made a show of rolling his eyes. “And when have you ever done anything he’s asked you to do?” he asked pointedly.

“I’m getting better at that,” Pete shot back, glaring at Joe. “And he did specifically ask me not to.” There was a pause as Pete waited for the kettle to boil. “Besides, I don’t really know yet.”

Joe leaned against the kitchen table, folding his arms across his chest. “All I know is I’m gonna smack that bitch Elisa stupid if I ever see her again.”

“Line forms behind me,” Pete said shortly as he went digging in the kitchen drawers for tea bags. “If there’s anything left, you’re more than welcome to her.”

Andy’s eyebrows went up. “That bad?”

Pete was silent for a long moment, biting his lips to keep the harsh words at bay. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “Worse,” he said softly. “She really put him through the wringer.” Shaking his head to clear it, he went back to making Patrick’s tea.

A moment later a pair of arms slid around his waist as a body pressed against his back. “Is that for me?” Patrick asked, peering over Pete’s shoulder.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to drink it,” Pete replied tartly as he peered into the now steaming mug. He wrinkled his nose. “It’s green.”

“That’s why they call it green tea, love,” Patrick said as he reached for the cup. He let out a happy little sigh as he took a sip. “Thank you.”

“You’re definitely welcome.” He planted a kiss on Patrick’s cheek. “You okay?”

“Better.” He turned to look at Andy and Joe. “Sorry for the hysterics.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Andy said as he took a swallow of his water.

“Andy’s right. There isn’t,” Joe repeated firmly. “We’re just glad you’re gonna be okay and everything. You know?”

“I will be,” Patrick’s voice was quiet as he sipped his tea. “Things are getting better. And what happened on the bus, it won’t happen again.” He looked at Pete. “Promise.”

“I said before I didn’t need a promise, babe. But thank you for it just the same,” He slid his arm around Patrick’s waist, “C’mon. Let’s go sit back down.”

The four men went back into the living room and sat back down. “So when are you coming back to Chicago?” Joe asked as he picked up his coffee cup. “Or are you camping out here for a while longer?”

The question took Patrick off guard. “I…I’m not sure,” he finally said, his fingers wrapped tightly around his cup to keep them from shaking. “I sold the condo, like I said. So I don’t really have a place to go back to, you know? And the money I got from it, I gave it to the public school music program charity.  Made it from the band.”  At Joe and Andy’s stunned looks, Patrick explained further.  “Elisa didn’t want it, and I wasn’t going to keep it.  I couldn’t think what else to do with it and at least donating it will do some good.”  He shrugged.  “As for going back to Chicago to live? After all this?”  He took a long swallow of his tea.  “I mean…a lot of it…it’s up to Pete, you know?”

A surprised look crossed Pete’s face. “Is it? News to me.” The moment he said it, however, he knew it was the wrong thing with the way Patrick curled up into himself. “Babe? I thought…didn’t we settle this?” His voice turned gentle even as a small frown crossed his face. “I thought for sure this was all settled.”

“It was. Temporarily,” Patrick said, ducking his head to hide his flushed cheeks. “But I can’t…I can’t ask you to turn your entire life upside down and sideways because of me.”

“You’re not asking me to. I’m making a choice.” When Patrick still didn’t look convinced, Pete reached over and took the singer’s tea cup out of his hands. He twined their fingers together. _So much doubt_ , he thought, his heart aching. _Time to pull out the big guns and settle this once and for all._ “The morning after our first night together, do you remember what I said?”

A faint smile crossed Patrick’s face. “You said quite a lot that morning. Which part?”

Pete squeezed his lover’s fingers, a little thrill going through him when Patrick squeezed back. “A day, a week, a month, a year.”

The faint smile grew just a little bit wider. “You told me I could stay for as long as I needed to in order to get my feet back under me and my head back on straight.” He paused. “I am getting better.”

“You are,” Pete agreed readily. “So much better, baby. It amazes me sometimes, how well you’re doing.” He paused, letting go of one of Patrick’s hands to brush his fingers along the redhead’s cheek. “But I still don’t think you should be dealing with this alone. And I keep telling you…I want to help.”

“And you do. You have. So much,” Patrick said, clinging to Pete’s hand with both of his own. “But I don’t want you to give up your life to save mine.”

“And what kind of a life do I have if I don’t have you?” Pete asked softly. “Patrick…I love you. I love waking up next to you every morning and coming downstairs to see you working on your laptop and watching you play fetch with Hemmy in the back yard and making you that awful green tea you like and a hundred million other things about you.” He gently angled Patrick’s chin up so their eyes could meet. “The house isn’t empty with you here. The silence isn’t as loud. I would love it to no end if you decided to stay.”

Patrick shook his head almost immediately. “No…Pete, I can’t…”

“Why not? I love you. Hemmy adores you. We already know we can live together without strangling each other. You can make music just as easily here as you could from Chicago.” Pete waved a hand around. “And this place is huge. There is definitely more than enough room for two musicians, a couple of guitars and a dog.” Pete paused, a hopeful look appearing on his face. “Patrick…sweetheart…I want you to stay. I want us to start building a life together. You think about it all you need to and if you really want to go back to Chicago I’ll understand, but I would love it if you would just…please stay.”

Patrick’s eyes filled with tears and he blinked furiously to keep them at bay. Clutching Pete’s fingers, he managed a shaky smile as he nodded. “Yes,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’d love to shack up with you.”

The widest grin Patrick had ever seen on Pete’s face suddenly appeared as the bassist surged forward and pulled him into a thorough kiss. Letting out a surprised squeak, Patrick’s hands flailed for a moment before finally settling on Pete’s arms. _He loves me,_ was all he could think as the breath was kissed out of him. _Even after everything, he loves me._

When he felt Pete begin to draw away he didn’t let go, opting to put his head on the bassist’s shoulder instead. “You know what this means, don’t you?” he said, a little breathless.

“Road trip to Chicago to get your stuff out of storage?” Pete asked brightly. “Could be fun. And it’s not like we haven’t been stuck driving in cramped quarters before.”

“Christ, don’t remind us,” Joe groaned. “I still have fucking nightmares about that damn van and I don’t even remember half of it I was so high.”

“Me, too.” Andy grimaced as well. “I keep praying someone recycled it into something moderately useful. Like a trash can or a giant lawn ornament in the shape of a flamingo.”

“Not just that.” Patrick drew away enough to look at Pete, his hazel eyes sparkling mischievously. “It means you’re gonna have to finish unpacking your boxes, too.”

Pete groaned theatrically as he ran a hand over his face. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Can’t we just throw everything into one of the spare rooms and shut the door?”

Joe and Andy stared at him. “Dude, you **still** have unpacked boxes?” Joe asked, the disbelief clear in his voice. “Didn’t you move in here like two years ago?”

“More like three, I think,” Andy added in.

“And how many times have I been home during those three years?” Pete shot back, wondering vaguely if he should be amused or annoyed. Hearing Patrick muffle a giggle against his t-shirt, he settled on amused. “We’ve been on tour so much I’m lucky I remember where I live!”

There was a split second pause before all four of them burst out laughing.

                                                                        *****

All four of them were reluctant to let the night end after everything that had gone on, so when Andy suggested ordering more pizza and watching a movie, they all jumped at the idea. It took a brief argument to decide on which one – “The Empire Strikes Back” – and soon all four of them were huddled together on the enormous couch in Pete’s media room watching the beginning credits roll up the screen.

The battle for Hoth had just ended when Pete felt a solid weight against his shoulder. Looking down, a fond little smile crossed his face. Patrick was slumped against him, sound asleep.

“Sweet baby,” he murmured, kissing his forehead. He reached over to pull at Joe’s hair. “Can you get Patrick’s glasses?” he asked, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the singer up.

“Sure.” Joe carefully slid the black frames off Patrick’s nose and put them on the end table. He hovered for a moment, hands spread out. “Want some help? He’s gonna be sore if he stays like that.”

Pete nodded. “Try not to wake him,” he warned as he turned enough to cradle Patrick’s head and shoulders in his arms. “Shh, baby,” He murmured as Patrick whimpered. “It’s all right. I’m right here.” He eased Patrick’s head onto his lap as Joe carefully picked up Patrick’s legs and lifted them onto the couch. The singer immediately curled up against him. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he crooned as he began running his fingers through Patrick’s hair. “It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“You’re good with him,” Andy commented as he grabbed a blanket off a nearby chair and draped it over Patrick’s sleeping frame.

Pete smiled. “Thirteen years of paying attention. And I’ve been getting a lot of practice the past couple weeks.” He paused, letting the copper colored strands drift through his fingers. “Honestly, though? It’s not that hard.”

Taking off Patrick’s sneakers, Joe let them fall to the floor. “Are you sure he’s okay?” he asked suddenly, a worried look on his face. “I mean, he’s never done this before. Dropped off like that.”

“The meds he’s on make him tired,” Pete explained, his voice still soft. “And he hasn’t been sleeping that well lately.”

Andy sat back down in the chair across from them. “Nightmares?”

Pete nodded. “So he takes cat naps during the day.” He looked up at Joe. “He really is okay.”

After a moment, Joe nodded. “I believe you, man. It’s just…with everything…I just worry about him.” He sat back down on the arm of the couch, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, none of us had a fucking clue that anything was wrong.”

“He’s always been good at hiding things,” Pete said, still stroking Patrick’s hair. “And you know how he is. He doesn’t like being a bother. I’ve been trying to convince him that he’s not, but it’s been slow going.”

“He looks better than he did a couple weeks ago. You have to be doing something right.” Getting up, Andy stretched. “Where do you hide the bathroom here?”

Pete pointed toward the door. “Just down the hall.” Nodding, Andy disappeared.

The minute the drummer was out of earshot, Pete turned his attention back to Joe. “What’s on your mind? Something is. I can tell by the look on your face.” When Joe hesitated, Pete added, “Get it out now if you don’t want Andy to hear. He’s not gonna be gone long.”

After a moment, Joe leaned forward enough so Pete could hear him over the sound of the TV. “I love my girls,” he said, his voice soft. “One of them isn’t even here yet and I love them both more than anything in this world.” He looked at Patrick, his gaze softening. “But if I didn’t have them? If things were different?”

“If you sat on the other side of the fence, you mean?” Pete asked, even though he knew the answer. Being the two youngest members of Fall Out Boy, Joe and Patrick had always been close.

After another moment, Joe nodded. “Yeah.” There was a pause. “He’s my brother. All three of you are. And I just…” He let out a sigh. “I can’t lose him. I can’t lose any of you. You know?” He shook his head. “Of course you know. Hell, you probably know better than anyone.”

Pete nodded, memories of his own dark days coming to mind. Ruthlessly he pushed them away. “You won’t,” he promised, his voice quiet but sure. “At least not to this. He is getting better.”

“You are, too, you know,” Joe said, smiling a little. “You can see the difference from before.”

A smile crossed the bassist’s face. “My therapist says a lot of it is because I have someone to take care of now,” he said. “She laughed when I told her you call me a mother hen.”

Joe’s smile turned into a grin. “See? I’m not the only one who thinks so.” Reaching out, he paused for a split second before adjusting the blanket over Patrick’s shoulders. “Just…take care of each other, okay? I want to be able to celebrate Fall Out Boy’s induction into The Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame fifty years from now with you two idiots.”

“You will. Although you’re delusional if you think it’ll take that fucking long.” Pete leaned back against the sofa cushions. “I give it another ten, tops.”

Joe snorted. “No way.”

“Gotta think big, man.” Pete went back to carding his fingers through Patrick’s hair. “Patrick’s voice, Andy’s drums, your guitar and our songs? Ten years.” He looked over his shoulder at Andy, who was just coming down the hall. “Question for you. How long do you think it’ll take us to get into The Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame? That doubter over there,” He pointed at Joe. “Doesn’t think we’ll make it inside of ten years. He’s saying fifty.”

“Don’t really know how to answer that,” Andy said after thinking for a minute. “I honestly thought we wouldn’t get this far.” He nodded toward the door. “We should go.”

Picking up the remote, Pete hit pause on Yoda raising Luke’s X-wing out of the swamp. “You don’t want to stay for the rest of the movie?” he asked, surprised. Empire was a particular favorite of Andy’s.

He shook his head. “Another time. You look ready to fall asleep right along with Trick there. And we’ve got a flight back to Chicago at the crack of dawn tomorrow. We just came to check on you two.” Leaning down, he gave Pete a one-armed hug, being careful not to jar Patrick awake. “Call us if either of you need anything, okay? We can be on the next plane here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks,” Pete said as he hugged Andy back.

Joe was next. “Love you, man.”

“Love you, too. Give Marie a kiss and rub her baby bump for us. It’s supposed to be good luck.” He watched as Joe kissed his fingers before brushing them against Patrick’s hair, smiling when the singer sighed and shifted into the touch. “We’re doing okay with everything, but a little luck can’t hurt.”

“Will do. Provided she lets me touch her between now and the delivery.” He paused. “And what Andy said goes for me, too. You need me for anything, you better fucking call.”

“Same here.” He waved as the two of them made their way down the hall, listening as the front door clicked shut behind them. Letting out a tired little sigh, Pete leaned even further into the sofa cushions before clicking off the pause button, making sure the sound was low enough so as not to disturb Patrick.

He was asleep before the Millennium Falcon landed on Cloud City.

                                                                                    *****


	4. Chapter 4

“Patrick!” Pete screamed, pounding on the bathroom door. “Answer me! Patrick!” He tugged on the locked door, wishing that Joe and Andy were with him to help break it down. They had stayed behind to talk to and sign autographs for the local road crew while he had gone ahead to the bus, wanting to check on Patrick as soon as he possibly could.

_Should have come sooner. Not gotten waylaid by the press, by the fans,_ he thought as he struggled with the locked door. He should have left with Patrick, followed him back to the bus, stayed with him. Because he had notice d the changes in his band mate, his friend over the past few weeks. He had seen firsthand Patrick withdrawing from everyone, keeping his distance and staying in the shadows. He barely heard Patrick’s once frequent and infectious giggling over some stupid thing he had said and had noticed the singer growing both paler and thinner as the weeks had worn on, turning into a ghost of his former self.

_Should have asked, pestered him until he told me what was wrong. Shouldn’t have just assumed he wanted to be left alone. Why did I leave him alone?_ He slammed into the door with his shoulder, hearing the cheap plywood splinter but not give. He slammed into the door again, harder this time, putting all of his weight behind it until finally it cracked and came off it’s track, giving way under the strain.

He pushed it aside, not caring where it landed. “Patrick!” he yelled, stopping in his tracks when he saw his best friend, the man he loved sprawled out on the floor of the shower stall, blood spilling out of his slashed wrists.

Pete went to his knees, pulling Patrick off the floor and into his arms, “Patrick… baby, wake up,” he pleaded, tears spilling down his cheeks as he shook the other man’s shoulders, trying to jar him back to consciousness. “Wake up, sweetheart. Please, please wake up…come on, baby…please…” Fumbling fingers pressed at the singer’s neck for a pulse, looking for a sign of life, a breath. Anything.

There was none. Patrick was gone.

Not wanting to believe the truth that was lying limp and still and so very cold in his arms, Pete continued to beg until his voice was hoarse, his eyes never leaving Patrick’s pale face. Finally, all he could do was sob, repeating Patrick’s name over and over as he buried his face in his beloved’s bright hair.

                                                                        *****

“Patrick!”

Pete sat straight up in bed, tears pouring down his cheeks as he screamed out in anguish for his best friend, his love, his very life. “No! Patrick!”

“Pete! Wake up!”

Hands grasped his shoulders, shaking him out his daze and when he blinked he saw the best thing he ever knew. Patrick was next to him in bed, hazel eyes wide and red hair a disheveled mess, wearing the faded Ziggy Stardust t-shirt he always slept in. “Patrick?” he gasped, his own hands reaching up to touch the ones on his shoulders. Warm, not cold and limp and lifeless. Warm.

“Right here,” Patrick whispered, one hand brushing against Pete’s cheek to dry his tears. “I’m right here. You back with me, love?”

Pete didn’t answer. “You’re here?” he persisted, his voice catching. “You’re really here?”

“I’m really here,” Patrick said. “It’s okay, Pete. You’re okay. I’m okay, too.” Taking Pete’s hand, Patrick put it squarely on his chest. “Feel.”

Feeling the steady beat of Patrick’s heart under his fingertips, Pete lost what little control he had left. He crumpled in Patrick’s arms, clinging to him as he sobbed. “I got to the bus…but I was too late. You were cold…and there was so much blood…and I was too late.”

“Oh, God,” Patrick breathed, tightening his hold on Pete as he wept. “It’s all right, love,” he whispered as he stroked Pete’s hair, trying to soothe him the best way he could. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m right here. You weren’t too late.” Tears pricked at his own eyes as he kissed Pete’s forehead, his ear, wherever else he could reach. “You weren’t too late.”

Finally, the sobs died down, leaving Pete sniffling in Patrick’s arms and clinging to him as tightly as he could. He let out a ragged sigh as he breathed in Patrick’s scent – Ivory soap, sandalwood shampoo and the faint muskiness of sweat. He closed his eyes, letting himself relax little by little. “Patrick,” he breathed, his lover’s name becoming a mantra, a prayer. “My Patrick.”

“Only yours,” Patrick said as he slid his hand up and down Pete’s bare back. “You okay?”

“Think so.” Sniffling, Pete drew away enough to wipe his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Idiot.” There was a fond note in Patrick’s voice. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He kissed Pete’s stubbled cheek. “Want to lie back down?”

Pete nodded, letting Patrick settle them both against the pillows. “I don’t think I can go back to sleep just yet,” he warned, shuddering. The image of a cold, still Patrick was still too fresh in his mind.

“You don’t have to,” was the quiet reply. “And you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, either. Just lie here and try to relax a little, okay?” He took one of Pete’s hands in his, twining their fingers together. “It’s okay, love. Just breathe.”

Closing his eyes, Pete let himself drift, feeling nothing except the pressure of Patrick’s fingers tangled with his and soft lips against his cheek, his forehead. “That’s nice,” he breathed when those lips brushed against his. “Perfect.”

“It is,” Patrick whispered in return before kissing him again, sighing when Pete kissed him back. “You are.”

Their kisses deepened, becoming messy and desperate as their tongues tangled together in order to taste one another. Grasping the redhead’s shoulders, Pete pulled Patrick on top of him and wrapped his legs around his waist. “Please,” he breathed, not sure what he needed but knowing it definitely involved feeling Patrick’s skin against his. “Patrick…baby, please…”

“I’ve got you,” Patrick crooned into his ear, making Pete shiver in response. “Tell me what you want? I’ll do anything you ask me to.”

“You.” Pete slid his hand under Patrick’s shirt, his fingers itching to touch bare skin. “Want you. Want you in me. Want you to fuck me.” His hands moved lower, fingers digging into Patrick’s boxer clad ass. “Please, babe…need to feel you.” His eyes were wide, desperate. “So I know you’re here and alive and okay.”

“Pete,” Patrick breathed before stopping the torrent of words with another hard kiss. “Okay, love. It’s okay. Just give me a sec.” He drew away long enough to pull his t-shirt over his head and toss it to the floor, reaching under the covers to get rid of both his underwear and Pete’s. One hand flailed out, reaching for the bedside table drawer. “Lube. We need lube.”

Pete fumbled with him and together they managed to get the drawer open, finding the half squashed tube buried under pens, headphones and one of Pete’s notebooks. Quickly slicking up his fingers, Patrick slid his hand in between Pete’s legs and carefully pressed one in. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

Pete immediately shook his head. “You won’t. You couldn’t.” He moaned as one finger became two. “God, yes…more.” He bucked his hips, forcing them in deeper. “Please…more…”

“Easy, love. Almost there.” Taking out his fingers, he squeezed more lube onto them before stroking his own cock, shivering under the touch. Wrapping his arms around Pete, he moved into position and kissed his parted lips. “I love you,” he whispered.

Dark eyes met his, bright with lust and need and love. “Love you, baby.” Both of them groaned as Patrick slowly entered him, not stopping until he was all the way in.

Patrick paused for a long moment, pressing his forehead against Pete’s. “God, you feel good.”

“So do you, sweetheart. So fucking good.” Pete ran his hands down the length of Patrick’s body, not stopping until they reached his ass and squeezed. “Come on, baby. Show me what those hips can do.”

“Like this?” Patrick moved, thrusting deeply and Pete let out an even louder moan. “This what you want?”

“Yes. Fucking hell, yes…don’t stop.” Screwing his eyes shut, Pete began meeting every one of his thrusts with one of his own. “Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

“Never.” Patrick began to move faster, his hips rocking in perfect time to Pete’s cries. “God, Pete…yes.”

“Yes,” Pete echoed, reaching down to grasp his own cock. He whined when Patrick batted his hand away. “Trick…baby, please…”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Patrick breathed into his ear. He nipped at his earlobe, drawing a whimper out of Pete in response. “I want you to lie there and take it. Let me love you like this.” He wrapped his hand around Pete’s leaking cock, pausing for a moment to run his fingers over the length. “Mine. You’re all mine.”

“Yours,” Pete sobbed, his fingers digging into Patrick’s shoulders. “Only yours…God, Patrick.” His eyes flew open as Patrick began to thrust again, hitting the very center of him. “Fuck!”

Patrick grinned. “Right there?” he asked, hitting the spot again.

“Yes! God…Patrick!” A shudder ran through him; he was close. So close. But he wanted Patrick with him. “Harder, baby. Just…harder…God!”

“Yes.” Patrick shuddered as well, biting back a moan of his own. “Come for me, love. Let it go.” He grabbed Pete’s hand, tangling their fingers together. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you. Let go.”

Pete let out a long, drawn out sob as he came, spurting all over both of their bellies. Burying his face in Pete’s shoulder, Patrick managed one last thrust as he came also, burying himself deep inside his lover’s shaking frame.

They both went limp, sagging against each other as they tried to catch their breath. Pete slid his free hand up Patrick’s back to tangle in his hair, brushing a kiss against his temple. “Patrick,” he murmured. “My gorgeous fucking perfect Patrick.” He let out a needy little whimper as Patrick slipped out of him. “No…stay…”

“Shh. I’m right here,” Patrick whispered, quieting him with a kiss. “Not going anywhere.” Pete was already snuggling close, his eyelids drooping as he mumbled “no” and “don’t leave” and “stay”. Grabbing his discarded t-shirt, he cleaned them up as best he could before wrapping his arms around Pete. “Love you,” he whispered as he laid his cheek against the bassist’s dark hair. “Love you so much, Pete. I’m here. I’m right here.” He kept whispering a steady stream of endearments and reassurances until Pete fell asleep, joining him not long after.

                                                                        *****

The next morning, Patrick was in the kitchen making breakfast when Pete came in, his phone pressed against his ear and looking annoyed. “Do you know what time it is? What is so important that you’re blowing up my phone this early?” Pouring a cup of coffee, Patrick waited until Pete was sitting at the kitchen table before sliding it over. He got a grateful smile in return before he turned his attention back to the pans on the stove.

“Damn it, Perez…slow down! I can’t understand you when you talk that fast. You know that.” Pete took a gulp of his coffee. “Now try again. Slowly. And words of one syllable if you can.”

_Hilton_ , Patrick realized, wrinkling his nose as he turned over scrambled eggs with his spatula and wondered if the man could actually manage words that long. _God knows how Pete can stand him. I know I can’t._ He glanced over his shoulder, a pang of sympathy going through him as he watched Pete become more and more annoyed. _Poor baby. What’s got Hilton in such a snit now?_

Finally, Pete cut him off. “Okay…okay! Jesus fuck, you made your point, man. So what do you want me to do about it?” Pete’s eyes went wide as he listened. “Seriously? You want me to come out there for this?” Another pause. “Of course I’m taking this seriously. But shit like this is why we have a manager on site. He’s supposed to take care of this shit for us.” Pete’s frown deepened as he listened. “He’s where? So who’s running the place?” Pete listened for another moment before putting a hand over his eyes. “Oh, fuck.”

_Definitely doesn’t sound good,_ Patrick thought as he reached up into the cupboard for plates. Briefly he hoped that Perez would wrap things up soon; Pete needed to eat and scrambled eggs were always better hot. _Give it another minute or two. Maybe we’ll get lucky._ Even as he thought it, though, Patrick couldn’t help sighing. Phone calls from Perez Hilton lasting over an hour weren’t unheard of.

To Patrick’s surprise, however, Pete seemed to be prodding Hilton along. “Okay…fine. Call everyone else. Looks like we’re gonna have to have an owner’s meeting to sort this mess out.” Pete checked the clock on the wall. “Give me an hour to sort things out here and check flights. I’ll be out tonight if I possibly can.” Pete suddenly rolled his eyes. “Perez, you woke me out of what was for once a sound sleep. I’m dressed in boxers and a t-shirt and I’m still working on my first cup of coffee. You’re fucking lucky I’m this coherent. Give me at least an hour and I’ll call you back.” Clicking it off, Pete dropped his phone onto the table and his head right next to it. “Fuck my life.”

“Should I ask?” Patrick asked as he began making up plates. “Or do you just want sympathy?”

“Cluster fuck over at the Chicago _Angels and Kings_ ,” Pete said as he lifted his head up and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “Apparently Perez popped his head in there last night just as a group of very drunk drag queens and an equally drunk group of frat boys started throwing chairs at each other. Add in the bartender giving away shots of $150 a bottle whisky to a trio of very underage girls wearing nothing but thongs, pasties, high heels and smiles and the bathroom smelling like Joe’s garage after a weekend blitz back in 2006.”

Patrick’s eyebrows went up. “You’re kidding. Or Perez is.” He set one plate down in front of Pete. “You’re sure he’s not on something that’s making him a little more happier than usual?”

“I couldn’t make this stuff up on a good day, much less half awake,” Pete said as he picked up his fork and began to eat. “And I can usually tell when Perez is higher than a hot air balloon. He actually sounded sober for once.” Pete suddenly stopped to look at his plate of scrambled eggs, toast and bacon. “Did you actually cook?”

“I actually cooked,” Patrick said, smiling as he sat down across from Pete with his own plate. “And no, Hell hasn’t frozen over.”

“That only happens if I cook,” Pete commented, smiling as well. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know. But seeing as I like to eat at regular times of the day and you do as well…” The redhead shrugged. “And I don’t mind. Especially if it’s easy.” He gestured at Pete’s plate with his fork. “Eat.”

“Have I told you lately how fucking incredible you are?” Pete asked, grinning from ear to ear. He leaned over enough to kiss Patrick’s cheek. “Thanks, babe.”

“You’re very welcome. Eat while it’s still hot. Cold scrambled eggs are disgusting.” With that, Patrick began eating as well.

Both men were quiet for a few minutes as they ate. Then Patrick asked, “So where was the manager while all that was going on?”

“No one’s quite sure. He hasn’t been seen or heard from for the past three days,” Pete said as he munched on a piece of bacon. “And neither have the assistant day manager or two of the bar backs. Apparently the assistant night manager and the two bartenders have been covering all the shifts.” Taking another gulp of his coffee, Pete shook his head. “And to be honest? The night manager wasn’t exactly the brightest crayon in the box. Perez found him dead asleep in the back office when he got there and fired him on the spot.”

Patrick blinked. “How in the hell did he fall asleep there of all places?” _Angels and Kings_ was loud on a slow night; Patrick could only imagine the noise level on a night like Pete had just described.

“It’s soundproof. Something Gabe insisted on,” Pete supplied. “And there’s a half-way comfortable couch.”

“Oh.” After a moment, Patrick went back to his breakfast. “Explains a lot.”

“Yeah.” Pete rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “Christ, we’re damn lucky the cops didn’t show up. We would’ve been shut down until the end of time.”

“At the very least,” Patrick added as he took a bite of his toast. “So what are you going to do? You said something to him about a meeting?”

Pete nodded. “Perez is gonna call everyone else. In the meantime, the doors are gonna be locked up tight until we can get our shit together.” Finishing his coffee, Pete got up to pour himself another cup. “Want more? Or are you drinking tea?”

“Tea. I’m good for now.” There was a pause. “And getting your shit together means?”

“Hiring a new manager, new assistant managers, two new bar backs and at least one new bartender,” Pete explained as he leaned against the counter. “Doing a full inventory because God only knows what the bartender was giving away along with our $150 whisky, fumigating the bathroom to get the weed smell out and ordering about a thousand new chairs.” He stared into his coffee cup. “In other words, fuck my life.”

Patrick pushed his mostly empty plate aside and picked up his tea cup. “So you’re leaving when?”

“As soon as I can call the airline for a flight out there and pack some shit. Fuck knows how long I’m gonna be gone to deal with this. Hopefully only a couple of days.” Pete looked up, a hopeful expression crossing his face. “You could come with?”

Patrick shook his head. “I have therapy tomorrow.”

“Dr. Anne could do a phone session. She’s done them with me often enough.” Sitting back down, Pete reached out and took Patrick’s hands in his. “Please? Perez alone is going to drive me crazy. Add in everything else and I can’t hold myself responsible for what I might do.”

Patrick continued to shake his head. “What about Hemmy? We can’t just leave him and you’re the one who said your dog sitter doesn’t work on short notice.”

“She doesn’t. And I think she’s away this week besides. I remember her asking when I was coming back from tour because she was going somewhere.” His brow furrowed as he tried to remember. “Cruise to Jamaica, I think.” Pete suddenly grinned. “Offered to bring me home an island girl.”

Patrick smiled as well. “I can just imagine that conversation with airport security.”

“Yeah. She’d try it, too.” There was a pause. “We could take him with us?” Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe not.”

“Definitely not.” Patrick’s voice was firm as he squeezed Pete’s fingers before pulling away. “You go. Deal with the mess out there and I’ll hold down the fort here. Okay? Easy solution.” Getting up, he picked up the dirty plates and headed for the sink.

Pete frowned. Easy and practical, yes. What he wanted? Not in a million years. _I don’t want to leave you alone,_ he thought for the thousandth, millionth time. _It’s still too soon._ He watched Patrick rinse off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, taking a moment to admire his lover’s easy, graceful movements even as his mind screamed with worry. “Patrick…”

Patrick’s entire body stiffened in response. “No, Pete.” There was a hint of anger in his voice. “Just…no.”

Pete was a split second away from asking why when he suddenly realized. _His mom. Elisa. He doesn’t want to take a chance of running into them on the street._ He mentally kicked himself for being so dense. _And he said it before. Chicago has memories on every corner for him. And not all of them are good._ “I’m sorry, baby,” he said softly. “I didn’t realize.”

Patrick relaxed, his shoulders slumping. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Getting up, Pete slid his arms around the redhead’s waist and hugged him from behind. “I’m an asshole and I shouldn’t have pushed.” He kissed the back of Patrick’s neck in apology. “I’m sorry.”

Patrick put his hands over the ones around his waist. “I know why,” he said, his own voice soft. “I know you’re worried about leaving me alone. I know that. And I love you for it.” There was a pause. “I just…I can’t, Pete. Not now.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have asked you to.” He buried his nose in Patrick’s hair. “I’ll miss you, Pattycakes.”

“I’ll miss you, too. But you’ll only be gone a few days. And it’s not like you’re going to the other side of the world. It’s Chicago.” Turning around, Patrick slid his arms around Pete’s neck and forced a smile. “It’ll be fine. I’ll go to therapy and play with Hemmy and try not to miss you like I’d miss playing my guitar.” He gave Pete a light kiss. “I’ll be okay.”

“Of course you will. Because you’re amazing.” He drew Patrick into a longer, deeper kiss. “You know,” he began, trying to lighten the mood. “We could have going away sex.”

It worked; Patrick laughed. “I think you need to pack,” he said, giving Pete a gentle push toward the stairs. “And get dressed. I’ll start prowling the internet for flights.”

“What about coming home sex?” Pete persisted as he walked. He looked over his shoulder at Patrick. “Or phone sex? It would keep me out of trouble during the owner’s meeting.”

“I am not heavy breathing into the phone while you jerk off,” Patrick pronounced as they made their way up the stairs. “Especially if you’re in a room full of other people.” He paused. “And how is coming home sex and going away sex different from regular sex?”

“I don’t know.” Stepping into the bedroom, Pete turned around and pulled Patrick back into his arms. “But we could try both and find out.”

Sliding his hands down Pete’s back, Patrick planted them both on his ass. “You didn’t get enough last night?”

“Oh, I got plenty,” Pete reassured him. Keeping one hand around Patrick’s waist, the bassist put the other squarely on the redhead’s groin, grinning when he felt his cock harden in response. “I was thinking of you.”

Patrick bit his lip. “What…what did you have in mind?” he asked, his voice shaking a little.

“All sorts of things.” Pete nuzzled his ear. “What I really want to do? I want to take my time with you. Go as slow as I can until you’re a moaning, shaking wreck in my arms.” He nipped at Patrick’s earlobe, getting a soft gasp in response. “How does that sound?”

“Just about perfect,” Patrick breathed, his hands digging into Pete’s battered Metallica t-shirt. “But we really…we don’t have time. Not if you want to get to Chicago sometime today.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sighing, Pete gave the singer another lingering kiss before drawing away enough to look at him. “So I’ll leave it up to you. Down and dirty quickie? Or taking my own sweet time?”

Patrick couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him. “As much as I really hate to say it, taking your time.”

Pete nodded and drew away, taking a step back for good measure. “Coming home sex it is.” He surveyed Patrick; the singer was flushed and breathing heavily, his arousal obvious. “And may I just say that you have a hell of a lot more will power than I ever had and probably ever will.”

“And you’re just lucky you have to get dressed and pack, otherwise you would have seen how close you came to being thrown onto the bed and ravished,” Patrick said as he ran a hand through his hair. “And I know he’s your friend, but Perez is a dick.”

“You don’t have to apologize. He really is, a giant bag of them.” Heaving a resigned sigh, Pete leaned forward and gave Patrick a kiss. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“Damn straight you will,” Patrick agreed with a grin. “And I’m looking forward to every minute of it.”

                                                                        *****

“Going stag today?” Dr. Anne asked as she stepped out into the waiting room and saw only Patrick sitting there.

Patrick smiled as he got up from his chair. “Pete’s in Chicago,” he said as they headed back to her office. “Flew out yesterday. Business with the bar he has a stake in.”

“ _Angels and Kings_ ,” Dr. Anne said with a nod as they stepped in and she closed the door. She sat down in her usual chair. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t go with him.”

“I stayed to keep an eye on Hemmingway,” Patrick said as he sat down as well. “Pete’s regular dog sitter is out of town and Hemmy doesn’t travel well.” He indicated Dr. Anne with a nod. “And I couldn’t stand you up. That would have been rude.”

“We could have done a phone session,” Dr. Anne commented, smiling. “I’ve done them with Pete.”

“He mentioned that, yeah.”

She was silent for a moment. “So the real reason?”

Patrick sighed. “I’m not ready,” he finally said, looking down at his hands. He ran a finger over the still red line bisecting his wrist. “Pete did ask me to. But the minute he did, I felt like throwing up. I’m not up to seeing all the old, familiar places yet, you know?” He paused. “And I don’t know if I ever will be.”

“You might,” Dr. Anne said gently. “I think you might need more time? It’s only been a few weeks.” She paused. “Give yourself a little patience.”

Patrick nodded. “It’s just…I never thought I’d be calling someplace other than Chicago home. I’ve loved the city ever since I was old enough to explore it on my own. There’s always been such a unique energy to it, a passion I’ve never found anywhere else.” There was another pause. “Now, though? After all this? It’s not the same. Chicago isn’t home anymore.”

“And that makes you sad.”

“A little, yeah.” He looked up. “Is that weird?”

“No. I’ve always felt that home is wherever you feel the most comfortable. Or who you’re the most comfortable with.” She tilted her head. “So is LA home for you now?”

“I’m…not sure? I’m getting a little more comfortable being here, being around so many people.” He smiled, shrugging. “There are days, though.”

“There are always going to be days,” she said, nodding. “What about Pete?”

“Oh, Pete’s always been home. Ever since the day I met him.” A fond look crossed Patrick’s face. “We could be on the other side of the world, in a country that feels like another planet, and he’ll say something or do something completely crazy and everything will be okay. Just like that.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how in the hell he does it.”

“You miss him,” Dr. Anne said. It wasn’t a question.

Patrick nodded again. “Like I’d miss music. Or breathing. Last night I ended up sleeping on the couch in the living room because I couldn’t stand to be in Pete’s bed if he wasn’t there. Couldn’t even manage the guest room because it’s right across the hall.” He twisted his fingers together until he forced himself to stay still. “I almost called him at six AM this morning just so I could hear his voice.”

“Why didn’t you?” Dr. Anne asked. “I’m sure he would have understood.”

“Oh, I know he would have. But he doesn’t sleep well when he’s away and he’s going to need all his energy in order to deal with the bar and Perez and everything else.” A wry little smile crossed his face. “I promised myself that if I was a good boy I’d call him tonight.”

“If he doesn’t call you first,” Dr. Anne said with a knowing little smile of his own.

Patrick nodded in agreement. “If he doesn’t call me first,” he repeated. “Which he probably will if he doesn’t go out with Gabe and the others. It’s been a while since he’s seen them.”

“Do you know how long he’ll be gone?”

Patrick shook his head. “No idea and he didn’t know either. From what he was telling me, it might take a couple days to straighten out the mess. It was a pretty big mess.” He held up both hands, showing the therapist a pair of crossed fingers. “I’ve got just about everything I can think of crossed in hope that it won’t be any longer than that.”

“I’ll cross everything too if that helps,” Dr. Anne said with a smile.

Patrick laughed. “It couldn’t hurt.”

Dr. Anne smoothed out the minute wrinkles in her skirt. “So tell me about Pete.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you know everything there is to know about Pete?”

“Not necessarily. And I want to hear about Pete Wentz from your perspective.” She paused. “How long have you been together, for instance?”

“That depends on your definition of together.” At the look on her face, Patrick explained. “I’m not trying to be a smartass. The answer is different depending on what exactly you want to know. If you’re asking how long we’ve been…how does Pete put it…band mates and writing partners and best friends? It’s been over thirteen years. If you’re asking how long we’ve been lovers?” He paused to count the days in his head. “Then it’s been twenty-two days. Our first time was the day before my first session with you.”

“That actually explains a lot,” Dr. Anne said with another nod. “Had you been with other men before Pete?”

Patrick shook his head. “It’s something I never considered before I met him. And after? Before the hiatus? I resisted it as hard as I could.” At her puzzled frown, he explained. “We have this group of diehard fans who want to see us together romantically no matter what. And Pete used to play up to that. It used to annoy me to no end.” A wry little smile crossed his face. “I guess they knew better than we did.”

“I wouldn’t say that necessarily,” Dr. Anne commented. “Sexuality is a fluid thing and you were both fairly young when you met, weren’t you?”

Patrick nodded yet again. “I was sixteen and he had just turned twenty-one. He had already been involved with a few bands in Chicago before Joe introduced us.”

She nodded. “Maybe the two of you just had to grow up, mature a bit.”

“God knows we both needed that, Especially right before the break.” He paused, finally sighing. “I was a real dick to him. To this day I’m surprised he actually forgave me.”

“Knowing what I do about Pete? That doesn’t sound surprising at all,” Dr. Anne commented.

“No, it really isn’t.” Patrick leaned back in his chair. “Anything with him and he’ll give you second, third, fourth chances like it’s nothing. Screw with someone he loves? You’ll wish you had never been born.”

“Loyal.”

“Like a basset hound. With the puppy dog eyes on top of it all.” Patrick smiled. “He’s not perfect. There have been times where I have come this close,” He held his thumb and forefinger barely a half an inch apart. “To duct taping his mouth shut before strangling him because of something he’s said or done.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “But I’ve never in my life felt more loved than I do when he loves me. Not from anyone.”

“Does he know that?”

“I hope so.” Patrick’s voice was soft. “I should tell him more often that I do. That’s the first thing I’m going to do when he comes home, is tell him.” There was a pause. “I did tell him what happened with Mom and Elisa finally.”

“And what did he do?”

Patrick was silent for a long moment. “He kept telling me over and over that he loved me, that what happened wasn’t my fault. He held me though the entire thing, didn’t let me go for even a moment. I woke up the next morning with him still holding me.” He paused. “He even offered to talk to them for me, tell them it was all him and not anything with me.”

“Are you going to take him up on it?”

Patrick shook his head. “No,” he said, his voice soft but calm. “Elisa…there were a lot of other issues besides how she felt about Pete. I wish things hadn’t ended the way they did, but it’s over. And I’m okay with that now.”

Dr. Anne nodded. “And your mother?”

Patrick let out a heavy sigh. “That still bothers me. I know there’s nothing I can do to change how she feels other than breaking things off with Pete and immediately start dating women again. Even then there would always be that doubt for her. I know that.” He paused, running a hand through his red hair. “And even if she asked me to, if that was the price to get back into her good graces…there’s no way in hell I’d pay it.”

“Some people wouldn’t blame you if you did choose your mother over Pete,” Dr. Anne said quietly.

“I’d blame me.” Patrick’s voice was firm. “Pete…he makes me happy. I didn’t realize how much he did or for how long until we got together. But even just being in the same room with him does something to me.” He paused. “You know he’ll do the stupidest things he can think of just to get me to smile? And the things he calls me…he must have a dozen different nicknames for me. But it isn’t just that. It’s not only Lunchbox and Pattycakes and Trick. It’s sweetheart and baby and…” His voice caught. “Beautiful. He calls me beautiful.”

“He loves you very much, Patrick,” Dr. Anne said with a kind smile. “I saw that on your first day here.”

Patrick nodded. “And how can I give that up? Especially when he’s become….” He stopped suddenly, a hand going over his eyes.

Dr. Anne pushed over the ever present box of tissues. “Become what?” she asked gently.

“Everything,” Patrick finally said. “He’s become everything to me. Band mate and best friend and lover and protector and so much more. I don’t have the words to describe everything he is, all he’s become.” He paused long enough to blink the tears away and take a deep breath. “I love my mother. But Pete?” He shook his head again, his mouth set in a straight, thin line. “I can’t give that up. I won’t. And she’s going to have to at least try and accept that I’m in love with him and he’s a permanent part of my life from now on.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“That’s her decision.” He let out another heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping a little. “I just wish she understood a little, you know? Or at least try to. But she didn’t even try.”

“And it is possible that she might need time,” Dr. Anne pointed out. “It was probably quite a shock hearing it like she did.”

Patrick thought for a moment. “I didn’t think of that,” he admitted. “Do you think that maybe she might?”

“Anything is possible given enough time.” She smiled. “And enough patience.”

Patrick smiled as well. “Still working on that part,” he said. “But I’m trying. That’s all I can do right now. Just keep trying.”

                                                                        *****

A little later in the afternoon, Patrick was in the middle of unlocking the front door when his phone rang. “Hello?” he said, not looking at the screen.

“I miss you.”

Patrick smiled, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of Pete’s voice. “I miss you, too.” Shutting the door, he knelt down to give Hemmingway a scratch behind his ears. “How are things going?” Silence. “That good, huh?”

There was a sigh. “I may have forgotten just how much of an ass Perez really is,” Pete admitted. “Especially when he’s been drinking.”

“What happened?” More silence. “Pete?”

“Everything’s okay,” Pete said finally. “He got the message, I think. I just hope to fucking God he remembers it when he sobers up, because if he doesn’t I’m gonna remind him a lot more forcefully than I did.” There was another sigh. “But it’s not a big deal.”

“What do you always say? It is a big deal if you’re upset about it.” Wandering into the living room, Patrick sat down on the sofa. “Talk to me? I know I can’t do much being so far away, but I can listen at least.”

“That’s a lot,” Pete corrected. After another moment, he said, “When the rest of us got to _Angels_ last night he had already been helping himself to the liquor supply. Had a hard time sitting up straight, he was so sloshed. And he wasn’t helping us straighten things out, so we just kind of let him be, you know? At least he wasn’t making things difficult.”

“Difficult enough, especially since he’s the one who dragged you all out there. I know it had to be done, but he’s still the one who started it.” Patrick kicked off his shoes and put his socked feet up on the coffee table. “But go on.”

“So by the time we hashed out the more important stuff, it was pushing two in the morning,” Pete continued. “We’re all feeling the jet lag, so we called it a night. Only by this time, Perez is just about passed out on the bar.”

“Of course he is,” Patrick remarked dryly. “Did you leave his ass there? I would have.”

“Thought about it,” Pete remarked. “But we’re all kind hearted people, so we thought one of us should make sure he at least got back to his hotel in one piece.”

“I can see where this is going from here,” Patrick pronounced. “How did it end up being you?”

“We drew straws,” Pete said. “And Gabe helped me wrestle him into a cab since by then he was deadweight and he’s a heavy son of a bitch. But I had to get him out of the cab, into the hotel and into the elevator on my own.” There was a pause. “That weight training Andy bullied us all into while we were on tour? Actually paid off.”

“You should tell him. I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear it right after he says I told you so.” Patrick commented. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m getting there,” Pete said. “Anyway, when I finally got him to his room he seemed to think I was…well…spending the rest of the night with him? So he starts pulling on my clothes trying to get them off. And when I pushed him away, he started taking his off instead.”

“Oh, God,” Patrick breathed. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. And all the while he’s going on about how he always knew I was gay and how he wants to fuck me and he can’t wait to feel my cock up his ass and all sorts of shit.” There was a pause. “God, it was a fucking nightmare.”

“I can imagine.” And Patrick honestly could see Perez doing just that: pinning Pete against the wall while he groped the bassist with beringed hands, slobbering kisses wherever he could reach while slurring lewd comments into his ear. It was enough to turn Patrick’s stomach. “Did you tell him to go fuck himself?”

“Several times. Fairly loudly, too. He just kept on saying he wanted me to fuck him instead while going for my crotch. Finally I got pissed off enough and kneed him in his.” There was a chuckle. “He folded like a limp spaghetti noodle.”

Patrick smiled when he heard the obvious glee in his lover’s voice. “Good. Hope it was hard enough to leave him limp for at least a week.”

“Oh, he’s not getting it up anytime soon. Trust me,” Pete said. “Left his sorry ass there on the floor. Then I came back here and took the longest, hottest shower I could stand, because fuck knows where he’s been. Collapsed into bed right after. I just woke up about an hour ago.” There was another pause, followed by a sigh. “I really do miss you, baby.”

“And I really miss you, too,” Patrick said softly. “Any idea how much longer?”

“The word’s already out that _Angels_ is hiring. Travis even set up some interviews for managers for tomorrow afternoon. And the other guys want to wrap this up as fast as possible, too. So maybe a couple more days at the most?” Pete heaved a sigh. “Why in the hell did I think being a club owner would be a good idea?”

“I honestly don’t know. You bought in when we were on hiatus, remember?”

“Oh…yeah, I did.” Pete snorted. “That explains a hell of a lot. I didn’t have you by my side trying to talk some sense into me.” Right before Patrick could make a smartass comment about Pete having very little sense around that time, the bassist changed the subject. “So how did therapy go? Dr. Anne ask you any more embarrassing questions?”

“Not this week,” Patrick said, chuckling a little. “We mostly talked about you.”

“Me?” Patrick heard the surprise in Pete’s voice. “Why me? Couldn’t you come up with anything else to talk about for an hour?”

“Something about wanting to see you through my eyes.” Patrick leaned back against the sofa cushions. “And I had an epiphany, I think.”

“Yeah? That’s great, Trick,” Pete enthused. “What about?”

“You, pretty much. A little about mom and Elisa, but it was mostly about you.” Swallowing hard, Patrick began to softly sing into the receiver. “I’ve found the cure for growing older. And you’re the only place that feels like home.”

“Patrick,” Pete breathed.

“I’ve never told you that, how much you mean to me. And I should have. I should be telling you every day how much I love you, how much I need you, how wherever you are is home to me.” Feeling his eyes begin to sting, Patrick closed them to keep the tears at bay. “Pete…I love you so much…”

“You do tell me,” Pete said softly. “You tell me in so many other ways. Like yesterday when you made me breakfast. Or the other night when you fell asleep with your head in my lap. Or when you played me that piece of the song you were working on.” There was a pause. “I don’t need to hear the words to know that you love me.”

“But you should. You deserve to hear them every day.” A tear slowly slid down Patrick’s cheek and he sniffled. “You’ve done so much…”

“Because I love you.” Pete’s voice was gentle. “Are you crying? Please, please don’t cry. Not when I’m not there to hold you.” He suddenly let out an inarticulate snarl. “Fuck Perez Hilton.”

Patrick suddenly giggled. “No, thank you,” he said as he brushed his tears away. He bit his lip. “Rather fuck you.”

“Now that is a much better idea,” Pete said with a chuckle of his own. “Talk dirty to me?”

“Weren’t you planning dinner with Gabe and Travis?” Patrick asked, still smiling. “I remember you mentioning something right before you left.”

“Meeting them downstairs in about an hour. And it’s nothing fancy. Just pizza, I think. God, I’ve missed Chicago’s pizza.” There was a pause. “That’s plenty of time to get each other off and still grab a shower.” His voice dropped to a low purr. “So what do you say, baby?”

After a moment, Patrick began fumbling with the zipper on his jeans. “Why do I let you talk me into these things?” he asked, not really looking for an answer.

He got one anyway. “Let’s face it, babe. It’s not that hard. And think of how boring things would get if I didn’t.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Patrick caught a gasp on the other end of the line. “And you’re naked already, aren’t you?”

“What do you think?” There was a pause, followed by a low groan. “God, I wish you were here. I can think of at least a dozen different things I could do with you right now.”

“I can think of a few myself,” Patrick said as he slid his jeans off his hips. He pulled his underwear down enough to wrap his hand around his cock, sighing as he stroked it to full hardness. “Oh, God.”

“Are you touching yourself?” Pete asked, his voice catching. “Have you got your hand wrapped around your dick, baby? Because seeing you do that gets me going like nothing else.”

“Yes,” Patrick breathed. “Although I’d much rather be there blowing you.” He licked his lips. “I can taste you.”

“Fuck, yes. You and that fucking mouth of yours…so perfect.” Patrick heard his lover choke back another gasp. “What else, sweetheart? Tell me something else.”

“You’re begging me to finish, to let you come down my throat. But I want more from you,” Patrick continued, the little whimpering sighs he could hear from Pete encouraging him. “So I push you down until you’re flat on your back in bed and then…then I straddle you…and slide down until you’re buried in me all the way.”

“Fuck,” Pete groaned, his breath coming faster. “That’s it, baby…ride me. God, you feel so fucking good.”

“Yes.” Patrick’s hand moved faster over his cock. “You’re so hard inside me…and it feels so damn good.” He bit his lip. “Pete…please…”

“Patrick!” Pete cried out, groaning into the phone’s receiver as he came. The sound of Pete’s orgasm triggered Patrick’s; with a cry of his own he came all over his fingers, his entire body shaking with release.

Sighing in contentment, Patrick sagged against the sofa cushions, letting his breathing return to normal before turning his attention back to the phone. “Pete? Darling?”

A sigh answered him. “Hey you.”

“Hey you,” Patrick responded, smiling. “You okay?”

“Mmm…wonderful.” The words came out in very close to a purr; Patrick could imagine Pete stretched out on the hotel bed completely naked with a sated grin on his face. “And I definitely need another shower now.”

“Me, too.” Grabbing a handful of tissues, Patrick managed to get most of his come off his hands. His jeans, however, were a lost cause. “Feel better?”

“Some.” There was a pause. “The only thing that will really help is seeing you, though.”

“I know. For me, too. Hopefully it won’t be that long?” It came out as a question.

“Hopefully not. I’ll keep you posted.” There was another pause. “”Consider yourself kissed, sweetheart. I love you.”

“Consider yourself kissed back,” Patrick said softly. “And I love you, too.” Clicking off his cell, Patrick tossed it onto the coffee table and heaved a sigh before getting up and heading for the bathroom.

                                                                        *****

Pete got out of his rental and paused in front of the modest two-story house, looking it over. _Hasn’t changed_ , he thought. There were different flowers planted outside and there was a fairly new car in the driveway, but the house looked the same as it had been on the day Patrick had dragged him, Joe and Andy over here for a home cooked meal and an interrogation all rolled into one.

_Can’t really blame her for the interrogation_ , he thought as he made his way up the front walk. _We were taking her sixteen year old son out into the world to play in dive bars and gym auditoriums with fairly dubious supervision. To this day I don’t know why she trusted us._ Pete grimaced; no, she had trusted Joe and Andy to keep a weather eye on Patrick. Patricia Stump hadn’t trusted him one inch from the first day they had met. She also hadn’t really liked him all that much.

_Can’t blame her for that, either_ , Pete mused as he paused in front of the door _. Arrogant, twenty-one and I thought I was God’s gift to punk rock. Trying to be polite but even then I came off like an asshole._ He sighed. Hopefully he wouldn’t come off like that today. It had been thirteen years since their first meeting, after all.

_This is for Patrick,_ he thought to himself as he knocked on the door. _Whatever she calls you, whatever she does or says, you suck it up. Because this isn’t about you. It’s about the man you love._

After a moment, the door opened and a middle-aged woman with silvering red hair and Patrick’s hazel eyes came into view. “Yes, can I…” She stopped abruptly and stared, the smile on her face vanishing immediately. “Peter.”

“Patricia,” Pete said, nodding. He buried his hands in his pockets, knowing that if he didn’t he’d start fidgeting. “May I come in? I think we need to talk.”

She didn’t move. “I have nothing to say to you,” she finally said, her hand on the door, ready to slam it shut in Pete’s face.

“See, I think you do,” Pete said. “I think you have a lot to say to me. The choice you have is whether you want to say it inside in relative privacy or out here on your front step where all your neighbors can get an eyeful.” He paused, knowing what her choice would be but giving her the illusion of it being her own decision nevertheless. “Up to you. But I’m not leaving until we talk.”

Their eyes met and Pete stood his ground, not flinching from Patricia’s hard, unrelenting gaze. Finally, she said, “If Patrick asked you to come…”

“Patrick doesn’t know I’m here,” Pete interrupted, making his voice as hard as Patricia’s. “In fact, he specifically asked me not to come, not to try and talk to you and explain things. He thought it wouldn’t matter and that I’d be wasting my time.” He paused. “Am I?”

She stared at him for a long moment, her hand still on the door, still frowning at him. Finally, Patricia stepped aside. “Thank you,” Pete said politely as he went in. He tried not to wince when she slammed the door shut and brushed past him without a word.

He sighed; he knew she wasn’t going to make this easy for him but he hadn’t really expected so much hostility. _You’re doing this for Patrick_ , he reminded himself, following Patricia into the kitchen.

Coffee was brewing in the pot on the counter and two mugs were already out on the table next to the cream and sugar. Pete sat down in one of the plain wooden straight back chairs, watching as she picked up the pot and poured. He waited until she sat down in front of him before doctoring his coffee, stirring it with a spoon. “So which is it?” he asked, trying to keep his voice as pleasant as possible.

“Which is what?” she asked frowning.

“Which do you have a problem with?” Pete asked as he took a sip of his coffee. “The Patrick being gay part? Or the Patrick being with me part?”

“I have no issue with Patrick being gay,” she said almost immediately. “My problem is you.”

Pete nodded. “Kinda thought so,” he said. “So is it just a general loathing then, or do you have a specific alphabetized list?”

Her frown turned into a glare. “I think you’re a selfish, narcissistic, self-centered, spoiled young man who thinks only about himself and the next thrill and who could care less about anything else,” she finally said, a note of triumph in her voice when she finished.

Pete, however, didn’t flinch. “So you did have a list.” He could feel her anger radiating off her in waves; what had he done to make her hate him so much? “You know, you haven’t called me anything that I haven’t called myself in the past. And a hell of a lot worse, really. And I can’t lie. I was all those things.” He forced a smile. “I like to think I’ve gotten a little better about all that since I’ve gotten older and on some halfway decent medication.”

“Everything you’ve done…it’s all a joke to you, isn’t it?” Patricia accused, still glaring at him. “Are you even sorry? Are you capable of that? Feeling remorse?”

“I am.” Pete met her glare for glare. “It helps to know what I’m apologizing for, though. I don’t remember doing anything particularly horrible to you, especially since it’s been awhile since we’ve seen each other. But God knows before the hiatus things got a little unbalanced and crazy. Especially near the end.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Refresh my memory.”

“Patrick,” she practically snarled, reminding Pete for a moment of a mama lion protecting her baby. “You hurt him.”

_She’s still fixated on that even after all this time?_ Pete thought, frowning a little. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised considering what he knew about Patrick’s mom, but he was a bit. “I did,” he replied honestly. “I hurt a lot of people back then, and Patrick was one of the ones I hurt the longest and the worst.” He paused, remembering the days spent screaming at each other and the ones where they barely talked at all before going on. “But we worked through it. It took a little while, but we worked through everything and forgave each other and we’re closer now than we’ve ever been.”

“I’m sure you are, considering things,” she remarked. Pete opened his mouth, about to defend himself when she continued. “He was happy with Elisa. They were going to get married.”

Pete nodded. “I know. He showed me the ring. As for being happy?” The bassist shrugged. “I know he tried his best to make her happy and be the man she wanted him to be. I’m not sure that added up to him being happy.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Which means what? That you know things about my son that I don’t?”

Another shrug. “What you tell your mom and what you tell your best friend are two entirely different things sometimes,” he said. “So probably, yeah.” He couldn’t imagine Patrick telling his mom about the abuse, not when it centered around his sex life.

She sniffed, clearly not believing him. “He tells me everything.”

Pete raised an eyebrow. “Okay. If that’s what you want to believe, sure.” He picked up his coffee cup again. He wouldn’t give details; Patrick would be mortified if he ever found out. But he could try and steer her toward the right way of thinking. “I’m just saying that it wasn’t all lollipops and rainbows. And Elisa was just looking for a way to get out of things for whatever reason. Her speculation about me and Patrick was a convenient excuse.”

“Turned out to be the truth, though,” she said.

“Not at the time.” At her puzzled frown, he continued. “Patrick and I…at that time, we weren’t together. Best friends, sure. But we weren’t lovers.” There was another pause. “That’s not to say I wasn’t in love with him then. I was. I‘ve been in love with Patrick for a long time.”

“And you made sure everyone knew that, didn’t you?” she accused him. “Patrick used to tell me about some of the things you did, the stunts you pulled. And not just with him. With everyone.”

“I was an unmedicated, obnoxious ass back then. Everybody knew that, including me.” Pete said matter-of-factly. “But you know something? I think you’re missing the point here.”

Patricia’s eyes narrowed. “Which is?”

“That all this is between me and Patrick and really none of your business. And he’s a grown man perfectly able to take care of himself.” He allowed himself a small smile. “And he – and everyone else around us for that matter – lets me know that on a regular basis.”

To Pete’s surprise, Patricia smiled as well. “He never did like being fussed over.” Her smile disappeared a moment later as she gave Pete a long, hard look. “I want Patrick to be happy,” she finally said. “And honestly? I don’t think you can make him happy.”

“I’m trying,” Pete said, his voice quiet. “Every day I try my absolute best to do whatever I can to make him happy. Because he does the same for me every single day.” He paused. “Believe me, I’m fully aware that Patrick is a gift I probably don’t deserve.”

Patricia was quiet for a moment. “Well…at least we agree on something,” she finally said.

“Even if we do agree on that, on the fact that there’s a pretty good bet I’ll never be worthy of him in a million years, it doesn’t matter,” Pete said, dismissing her criticism with a shrug. “Know why? Because he loves me. He tells me or he shows me in a dozen different ways every day.” He caught the doubtful look on her face. “You don’t think so?”

She was quiet for a moment. “I think…he may believe he is. I don’t know whether it’s true or not.”

“You don’t trust his judgment?”

This time Patricia’s answer was more immediate. “Not when it comes to you,” she said. “He’s always had a blind spot when it comes to you. You could do no wrong and everything you did and said was perfect and amazing.” She paused. “At least that’s how it was in the beginning. As time went on and the band…and you…became more successful…more well-known…”

“The shine began to wear off?” Pete nodded. “That sounds about right.”

“You fought all the time. When he came home back then, he was always so angry. At you, mostly. But there were other things. How the album was coming along, how the music never sounded the same way twice, what the critics would say. And some of the fans…they were even worse.” She shook her head. “So many things. He took so much to heart back then.”

“We forgot a lot of the time how young he was,” Pete said quietly. “The music he could make, it was so amazing even back then. And it made him seem so much older than he really was.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, a frustrated look on his face. “Sometimes I wish I could go back and tell that younger me to give that younger him a little slack, to be gentler with him. To listen to him more. Maybe if I had, the hiatus wouldn’t have happened.” He shrugged again. “Or maybe it would have anyway. We were all burnt out near the end.”

“You never were,” Patricia corrected.

“Oh, I definitely was,” Pete corrected back. “Burnt out, strung out and a train wreck besides. I just put on a good front for the cameras and the fans.” He paused. “Never did for Patrick, though. Or if I tried to, he saw through it like that.” He snapped his fingers. “And called me on it. Because that’s how he is. He sees me – the real me, the fucked up me – and he loves me anyway.” Pete swallowed hard against the unexpected lump in his throat. “He’s been by me through everything. Every good thing. Every bad thing. And he’s never left me alone, not for a minute. Not when it really counted. That’s…that’s always been amazing to me.”

Picking up her cup, Patricia took another sip of her coffee. “And what about you?”

“Me? I’ve been in love with him since the day I met him and heard him sing for the first time,” Pete confessed. “I know it may not have always seemed like it, but I was. Always. Even when we were tearing each other apart.”

“Is that why you did this?” Patricia asked, her voice going hard again. “Couldn’t you bear to see him happy with anyone other than yourself?”

Pete bit his lip in an effort to keep his anger and frustration at bay. Finally, he said, “Patricia, God’s honest truth. I had nothing to do with Patrick and Elisa breaking up. Absolutely nothing.”

She leaned back in her chair. “You always talked a good game, sounded so sincere. That hasn’t changed either, I see.”

“It’s the truth. Patrick didn’t even tell me the truth about it until about two weeks ago. The real reason, not the bullshit one he fed me after everything.” He clamped his mouth shut just in time, realizing a split second too late that she probably still didn’t know about Patrick’s suicide attempt. And while he thought she should know, he didn’t want to be the one to tell her unless it was absolutely necessary. “I don’t know where Elisa latched onto the idea that Patrick and I were sleeping together, but we weren’t. At least we weren’t back then.”

Patricia’s eyes widened as what Pete said – and didn’t say – sank in. “But you are now.”

Finishing his coffee, Pete pushed the cup aside. “Again, really none of your business. But yeah, we are.”

“And you have the gall to sit there so smug. Especially when all this was your doing from the very start.” The anger in the older woman’s voice was evident. “You’ve never made a secret about how you feel. How long have you actually been planning this?”

“I haven’t been planning anything!” Pete yelled, the words escaping him before he could do anything to stop them. He took a deep breath before starting over. “I had nothing to do with this. I didn’t even know how he felt about me until about three weeks ago.”

“You said it yourself,” Patricia pointed out. “You’ve wanted him for years. I can’t imagine you not jumping at the chance of finally having him once you managed to get Elisa out of the way!”

“Elisa got herself out of the way for whatever reason. **She’s** the one who broke Patrick’s heart and left him standing with an engagement ring in his pocket, not me,” Pete shot back. “And **you’re** the one who took his broken heart and stomped it into tiny pieces when he came to you looking for a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on.” His anger suddenly spilled out, loosening his tongue even further. “ **I’m** the one who’s been trying to put him back together and thanks to you and that bitch of an ex I almost didn’t get a chance to!”

Patricia’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“He tried to kill himself the last night of the tour.”

Her eyes went wide. “Patrick did what?” she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“He tried to kill himself,” Pete repeated, his gut twisting as he fought to say the words. “Our last night of the tour in LA…he came offstage, went back to the bus and slit his wrists with a butcher’s knife he found in the galley.”

After a moment of stunned silence, Patricia shook her head in denial. “No,” she said finally. “He wouldn’t. I don’t believe you.”

Digging his cellphone out of his pocket, Pete slammed it down on the table in front of her. “Both Joe’s and Andy’s numbers are on speed dial,” he said, his voice hard. “They were there. Call then if you don’t fucking believe me.” When she continued to stare at him he exploded. “Jesus Christ, Patricia! Do you honestly think I’d lie about something like this? What kind of person do you think I am?”

That seemed to shake Patrick’s mother out of her daze. She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “He really…” she asked, not able to finish.

“Yes, he really,” Pete snapped back. Sighing heavily, he got up from his chair and poured himself another cup of coffee. “The emergency room doc said he was lucky. If he had cut just a little bit deeper, or if we had been a couple minutes later getting back to the bus to check on him,” A shudder went through him and he put his cup down to keep from dropping it. “We would’ve lost him.”

“Oh, God,” she breathed, putting a hand over her mouth as she bowed her head. For a split second, Pete felt sorry for her, wishing he had been a little gentler in telling her. But then he remembered how cold Patrick had been, how much blood had been on that tiny shower stall floor and his pity disappeared almost immediately.

Blinking back tears, Patricia asked, “Is he all right now? I mean…if it was that close…”

“The hospital gave him blood, stitched him up and stabilized him, let him out two days later after putting him on medication and having him talk to someone,” Pete said. “Since then, he’s been staying with me.”

“With you?” Her frown returned. “Why with you? He should come home.”

“To what?” Pete asked baldly. “When I asked him the same thing he told me Chicago wasn’t home anymore. Too many ghosts.”

Her frown turned into a look of shock. “You’re blaming me for this?”

“Not just you.” Pete leaned against the counter, his arms folded across his chest. “I blame that bitch Elisa for tearing him down bit by bit before breaking his heart. And I blame myself for not seeing how bad Patrick was hurting, for being a shitty ass friend when he needed one the most.” He glared at her. “But yeah, I blame you, too. Because he came to you heartsick and confused and hurting, and you basically told him to go to hell.” He shook his head. “You say I hurt him? Lady, you hurt him more than I ever could have dreamed of.”

She shook her head. “I was angry,” she breathed. “I didn’t…he’s my son. I didn’t mean…”

“Don’t you fucking dare give me the lame ass excuse that you didn’t mean it, that you didn’t know exactly what you were saying,” Pete shot back. “You knew. Both you and Elisa knew.”

“I didn’t know Elisa had…that she had hurt him so badly,” she said, her voice breaking a little. “When he came over that night, he didn’t mention any of that. He just kept saying over and over that she had left because of you. That she had accused him of cheating on her with you.”

Pete shook his head. “We never did. Not then,” he said. “I’ll admit I wanted to. And I probably would have if Patrick had given me any kind of encouragement. But Patrick…he never did. I may have teased him about it, but deep down I knew he never wanted that, didn’t think of me that way then, so I didn’t push.” Pete paused. “And when the band got back together and he first told me about Elisa, he was happy. He was the happiest I had ever seen him and I wasn’t going to do anything to screw that up.”

She nodded in understanding. “And you’re taking care of him now?” Pete nodded. “Is he all right? The truth.”

Pete picked up his coffee cup and sat back down. “Honestly, he has good days and bad,” he said. “Some days he’s fine. Does everything he usually does. Reads, writes music, sleeps later than anyone I know.” They shared a smile at that. “And some days…some days he can barely get out of bed.” He let out a sigh. “There was one day last week when he didn’t even get that far.”

“But you think he’s all right?” she persisted.

“He’s doing a lot better than I was after I tried,” Pete said honestly. “He takes his meds, he eats, he’s seeing a therapist twice a week…he’s doing good.” He paused. “You should call him.”

Hesitating, Patricia shook her head. “No. After everything I said to him, he wouldn’t want to hear from me.”

“You’re wrong.” Pete took another long sip of his coffee before continuing. “Look, every day I see him go to pick up his phone to call someone. I can only assume it’s you because usually he stops before he does. He stops and he gets this look on his face.” He paused, rubbing his hand over his face before continuing. “And it breaks my heart when I see it, because I know there’s nothing I can do, nothing I can say to make that look go away, to make him stop hurting.” He shook his head. “Sometimes he shakes it off when he knows I’m watching him. He’ll lie and say he’s fine and tell me not to worry. But that’s rare.”

“And the other times?” Patricia asked quietly.

“He’ll go upstairs and bury himself under a pile of blankets and stare at the wall,” Pete answered, his voice just as soft. “Sometimes he’ll cry until he drops off to sleep. Other times he’ll just let me hold him while I try to tell him that everything is going to be all right.” He paused. “I’m still not sure he believes me when I tell him that, though.” He swallowed hard before going on. “The one thing? He doesn’t talk about it. Not a single goddamned word. I’ve tried to get him to and he won’t.” Pete shrugged, suddenly feeling helpless and hating it. “But he’ll let me hold him at least. And for now, that seems to be what he needs.”

“And when it isn’t any more?”

“Then I’ll find out what else he needs and do my best to give it to him,” Pete’s voice was firm. Their eyes met. “Whatever he needs. Because he’s not dealing with this alone. Not while I have breath in my body.”

Patricia gave him a long, measured look. “You have changed,” she finally said.

A quirky little half smile crossed Pete’s face. “For the better, I hope?”

She nodded. “I can’t help but be a little surprised.”

“Shocks the hell out of me, too, actually,” Pete said, the smile become wider. “And a lot of it is because of Patrick. I came too damn close to losing everything, including him. It was the kick in the ass I needed to straighten myself out.” He paused. “I love him, Patricia. And I’m not letting him go. Not for anything.”

There was a long pause as they looked at each other. Finally, Patricia sighed. “Somehow deep down, I knew it would come to this,” she remarked. “I remember when Patrick first brought you home so I could meet you. The look on his face…he loved you even then. He may not have realized it, but it was there every time he looked at you. That much love…and for so long…that’s something no one can fight.” Getting up, she put her coffee cup in the sink before sitting back down. “I just want my son to be happy.”

On an impulse, Pete reached out and put a hand over Patricia’s. “Then isn’t it good that we both want the same thing?”

She looked up, meeting Pete’s eyes with her own. “Yes,” she said, briefly squeezing his fingers and smiling. “Yes, it is.” Her smile disappeared a moment later. “But if you hurt him again…”

“Joe and Andy have already promised to kick my ass if I ever do,” Pete said with a rueful smile of his own. “I’ll make sure they include you. You can direct traffic.” Glancing at his watch, he drained his cup before getting up and putting it in the sink with hers. “I should go. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

Patricia nodded as she got up as well. “Is he really all right?” she asked again, the worry evident in her voice.

“He’s doing a lot better,” Pete reassured her. “He gets tired a little more easily because of the meds he’s on, so he’s been taking cat naps some days. But like I said, he’s eating okay and writing music again and laughing.” Pete paused. “There was a while there where he wasn’t doing any of that.”

She nodded in understanding. “And you…you’ll take care of him?”

Pete nodded as well, smiling. “I will. I promise.” He embraced her. “Call him.”

After a moment, she pulled away. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to speak to me after all this.”

Pete shook his head. “Patrick’s not like that. I think he really wants to talk to you about all this, but I know him. He’s not going to make the first move.” An earnest look crossed his face. “He loves you. I know he misses you. Please call.”

There was a long pause. “I still need to wrap my head around this,” she confessed. “I mean, I fully expected grandchildren eventually not more than a month ago.”

“I know,” Pete said. “He does, too. He knows he gave you a shock, telling you like he did. And he doesn’t expect you to rush right out and join PFLAG. But he wants you to understand, or try to at least. He needs that, after everything he’s been through.” He paused. “And he especially needs it from you.”

Patricia bit her lip and for a split second Pete’s mind flashed to Patrick doing the exact same thing and his heart ached. _Almost over_ , he couldn’t help thinking. _Bag is in the trunk, ticket is in my jacket. Drop off the rental and then on the plane for home._ Briefly he wondered just when LA had become home as opposed to Chicago, but he dismissed that thought almost immediately. _Home is where Patrick is. That’s how it’s always been._ He couldn’t wait to take the singer in his arms and hold him.

Finally, Patricia nodded. “I can try,” she said. “That’s all I can do.”

“That’s all I can ask.” He kissed her cheek. “Take care, okay?”

To Pete’s surprise, she did the same. “You, too. And kiss Patrick for me.”

Pete couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he left the house and headed down the walk. _Easiest thing in the world for me to do_ , he thought as he climbed into his rental, giving Patricia a final wave before driving away. _Almost home, Pattycakes. Just give me another couple of hours._ Pausing at the stop sign on the corner, he glanced over his shoulder at Patrick’s childhood home. _God, I hope I did the right thing,_ he thought. _And if I didn’t, I hope Patrick can forgive me._ He turned, heading for the airport.

                                                                        *****

Several hours later, Pete was unlocking the front door to his house as quietly as he possibly could. It was late, later than he anticipated coming home thanks to turbulence and thunderstorms delaying him over Las Vegas. _Patrick’s probably asleep_ , he thought as he carefully set his bag right inside the door. _At least I hope he is. I should just camp out on the couch down here. He still doesn’t sleep as well as he should._ He was still debating things when Hemmy came barreling around the corner, panting excitedly.

“Hey, boy,” Pete said, grinning as he dropped to his knees to pet the ecstatically wiggling dog. “Have you been a good boy for Uncle Patrick?” Hemmy let out a little yip in response. “Shh, now. We don’t want to wake him up, okay? He’s probably asleep, right? Sound asleep.” Pete yawned. _Like I should be right now._

Looking up, he caught a faint glow coming from the living room and smiled. _Waiting up for me maybe?_ he mused as he gave Hemmy a final pat before standing up. _Although I didn’t tell him when I was coming in. Maybe he just left a light on by mistake._ He followed the bulldog into the living room.

Pete paused in front of the couch, a fond smile crossing his face. Patrick was curled up under the comforter that was usually on his bed, one bare foot sticking out from under the edge as he breathed into his pillow. _Beautiful baby_ , he thought as he leaned down, brushing a kiss across the singer’s forehead.

Snuffling, Patrick stirred, his eyes blinking open about halfway. “Pete?” He sat up a little, reaching for his glasses. “You’re home. When did you get in?”

“Just now. Wasn’t sure how late I was going to be. I got stranded over Vegas for a while.” Leaning down, he gave Patrick a lingering kiss. “What are you doing down here?”

Patrick ducked his head, his cheeks bright red. “I couldn’t sleep. The bed…it was too big, too empty without you.”

“Sweetheart,” Pete breathed before stealing another kiss. “I had a hard time, too.” He brushed his fingers against Patrick’s cheek. “You should have said something when I called.”

Patrick smiled, leaning into the touch. “What could you do? You were halfway across the country and I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not a bother,” Pete protested.

“You had other things to worry about besides me, then,” Patrick countered, his voice firm. “Did you sort everything out?”

Pete sat down next to him and slid an arm around his shoulders. “More or less. Hired a new manager and one assistant manager at least. They’ll take care of everything else. And Gabe volunteered to stay a couple extra days to keep a close watch on everything.” He blinked, suddenly taking a closer look at what Patrick was wearing to sleep in. “Isn’t that my shirt?”

“What? Oh.” Patrick glanced down at the battered Metallica T-shirt. “Yeah. It smells like you.”

Pete brushed a kiss against the singer’s temple. “You really had it bad, didn’t you?”

“I could say the same about you. You look like you used to after a show with your eyeliner going every which way.” Patrick ran a thumb lightly over the dark circle under Pete’s right eye. “Did you get any sleep while you were gone?”

“Mmm…not much. A couple hours after the fiasco with Perez and a little on the plane.” He yawned, suddenly exhausted. “Sorry.”

“No reason for you to be. Come on.” Taking Pete’s hand, Patrick got to his feet and gathered up the comforter over his other arm. “Upstairs. Then maybe both of us will get a little sleep.”

“Here’s hoping.” Pete followed Patrick upstairs, barely managing to strip down to his underwear and brush his teeth before falling into bed. Patrick snuggled up next to him and they managed one lingering kiss before falling asleep within moments of each other.

                                                                        *****

It wasn’t until much later the next day that Pete noticed the small patch of white gauze taped to Patrick’s wrist. _Oh, God…he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Would he?_ He immediately began to panic. _Did he have that last night? I would’ve noticed it if he had, wouldn’t I?_ He racked his brain, trying to remember and he couldn’t; he had just been too tired. _God, please let him be okay. An accident…something stupid…anything other than what I’m thinking._ “Patrick? Sweetheart?

“Mmm?” Patrick replied absently, his attention mostly focused on his laptop computer screen. Pete assumed he was still working on the song he had listened to; the singer tended to work on one project at a time usually. “Yeah?”

Pete swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “Are you okay?”

Patrick looked up, a concerned little frown on his face. “What?”

Pete swallowed again and tried very hard to keep his voice from shaking. “Are you okay?” he asked again, mostly successful.

Patrick nodded, still looking confused. “Fine. Why?”

“Because you’d tell me, right?” Pete persisted, not answering his lover’s question for the moment. He needed his own answered first. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, if something was wrong. Wouldn’t you?”

“Of course I would.” Patrick’s confused look turned to worry. “Pete, what is it? You look scared to death.”

“Because I love you,” Pete said, taking a step closer, his eyes locked onto the bandage on Patrick’s wrist. “I love you so much, baby. And I’d do anything I could to help you. You know that, right? Anything at all.” He was babbling and he didn’t care; his heart was pounding hard in his chest and he felt like he was about to jump out of his skin as his brain kept screaming “no” and “please” and “don’t go, I love you”. “All you have to do is say.”

“I know. I love you, too.” Patrick reached out, worry turning quickly into alarm when he saw tears brimming in Pete’s dark eyes. “Pete, no. Tell me what’s wrong.”

His hands shaking, Pete took Patrick’s hand in both of his, turning it over so the bandage was showing. “Patrick, please,” he whispered. “Please tell me how to fix this.” _I thought you were okay and now you’re not and please please please Patrick don’t leave don’t leave me all alone._

Patrick’s eyes went wide. “No!” He quickly clutched at Pete’s hands. “Pete, no! It’s not what you’re thinking, I swear.”

Pete blinked, the tears rolling slowly down his cheeks. “It’s not?”

Patrick shook his head. “It’s not. I’m okay. And if I wasn’t, I would tell you.” He smiled a little, trying to reassure Pete in whatever way he could. “But I’m okay. Really.”

Letting out a shuddering sigh, Pete sagged onto the sofa and practically fell into the singer’s arms. “Oh, God I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I thought…Christ, I thought…”

“I know,” Patrick said, his heart aching for Pete, for the reason why he had thought what he did. “I know, love. I’m sorry, too. It’s okay.” He stroked Pete’s hair, brushing kisses wherever he could reach. “Shh, now. It’s okay. I’m here and I’m fine and so are you. Shh.”

Finally, Pete pulled away enough to wipe his eyes. “Sorry.”

“No reason for you to be,” Patrick said gently. “You were afraid for me and you had every reason to be.” He gave Pete a soft kiss. “But I won’t. I wouldn’t. I promise.” He brushed Pete’s tears away with his fingertips. “I won’t leave you alone.”

_My worst fear,_ Pete thought, marveling for a moment at how Patrick knew without being told. Then he realized that over thirteen years of friendship some things had probably been made painfully obvious. “I won’t leave you, either,” he promised, not missing the way Patrick’s shoulders had sagged in pure relief. _And his, too._

Pete put his head on Patrick’s shoulder as he leaned back against the couch cushions. After a moment, he brushed a finger against the bandage on his lover’s wrist. “So if this isn’t what I thought it was, what is it?”

Patrick drew away enough to pull at the tape covering it. “I wanted to wait a little longer for it to heal before I showed you,” he said, smiling a little. “I should have known you’d notice. You notice everything.”

“About you,” Pete added as he watched Patrick pull off the gauze and hold out his wrist. “Oh,” he murmured, his voice soft with surprise. On the underside of Patrick’s wrist, right where a thin red scar still bisected it, there was a small tattoo of a semi-colon.

“When did you get it done?” Pete asked. It had to have been while he was gone, he knew, but he still wondered.

“The other day, after therapy,” Patrick said, smiling as Pete cradled his wrist in both hands. “The shop is on the corner, right down the street from Dr. Anne’s office. I just…you know…went in and had it done. It didn’t even take an hour.” He paused. “It was something I needed to do.”

“I know.” Pete had his own ink from his recovery. “Does it hurt still?”

Patrick shook his head. “It didn’t even hurt that much when I had it done. And I kind of expected it to, considering where it is.” He shrugged. “I was a little nerved up.”

“That’s probably why. Endorphin rush.” Leaning down, he brushed a kiss against it before looking up. “I don’t know what it means.”

Patrick shivered a little at the touch of Pete’s lips against his skin. “I was on the internet a couple nights ago. Couldn’t sleep, with you gone. I found this blog called The Semi-Colon Project. It’s for suicide prevention and awareness. The woman who started it did it in memory of her father.” His fingers curled around Pete’s. “You write. You know how a period ends a sentence. A semi-colon keeps the sentence going. Keeps the thought going. You know?” When Pete nodded, he continued. “The sentence is your life. Basically it means that your story isn’t over yet.”

Pete brushed his thumb against the tattoo. “I like that,” he murmured.

“I did, too,” Patrick said, smiling. “I must have spent half the night reading all the testimonials. So when I passed by the tattoo shop, I didn’t think twice.” The smile turned into a grin. “No more tattoo virgin.”

Pete laughed; he and Joe had spent hours needling Patrick with that nickname over the years. “I wish I could’ve gone with you.”

“I do, too. But I also didn’t want to wait. I think I would have chickened out if I had.” He shrugged. “You know what a chicken shit I can be.”

“Personally, I think you’re one of the bravest man I know, but that’s me,” Pete said, grinning when Patrick blushed. “There’s more, isn’t there? Come on, Stump. Out with it.”

Patrick took a deep breath, steeling himself. “I want…I think I need to talk about all this more. Not just to you and the guys and Dr. Anne, but to everyone. You know?”

“You mean put it out there? With press and everything?” When Patrick nodded, Pete hesitated. “Be very sure, sweetheart. Once you put it out there, it can’t ever go back in.”

“I know. But I’d rather have it out there on my terms than someone else’s.” Patrick paused, thoughtful. “We’ve been incredibly lucky that no one has found out before now.”

“Yeah. I know. I just…” Pete paused, sighing. “You know how bad those monsters can be. I just don’t want to see you go through all that, that’s all.”

“But I can’t hide it forever, love. You know that as well as I do.” Patrick paused. “And maybe…maybe it’ll help someone, knowing how bad it was.” He closed his eyes. “If it saves one kid, it would be worth it.”

Reaching up, Pete brushed his fingers over Patrick’s cheek. “I ever tell you how absolutely fucking amazing you are?”

Patrick ducked his head. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Incredible.” He gave Patrick a gentle kiss. “And gorgeous on top of it.”

Patrick’s cheeks were bright red. “I just…you’re always so open and honest about what you’ve been through. And you’re not ashamed. I want to be like that. I don’t want to pretend it never happened and then be afraid of someone finding out and using it against me.” He shook his head. “That’s no way to live.”

“No, it’s not,” Pete agreed. “I just want you to be sure, that’s all. It’s a big step.” He paused. “Maybe talk to Dr. Anne about it?”

“I was planning to the next time I went.” He gave Pete a look. “I wasn’t just going to jump into this. I know that something like this has to be planned out.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” Pete pushed a stray lock of Patrick’s hair back into place. “I just worry about you, that’s all.”

“I know you do and I love you for it.” Patrick leaned over and gave Pete another kiss. “But I think I really need to do this, to be open about this.”

“You know I’ll back you, babe. Whatever you need. Joe and Andy, they will, too.” Pete squeezed Patrick’s fingers. “Anything.”

“I know. And it helps, knowing that.” He leaned his head against Pete’s, their foreheads touching. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” A wicked little grin suddenly appeared on Pete’s face. “You know something? I suddenly want to do dirty things to you.”

Patrick’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

Pete nodded. “Definitely. All sorts of filthy, dirty, sexy things.”

Patrick didn’t hesitate. “Okay.” Grasping Pete’s hand, he pulled the bassist to his feet. “Come on, upstairs. If we’re doing filthy, dirty, sexy things, I want to be in a bed.”

Pete laughed as he was practically dragged toward the stairs. “I honestly thought I’d have to convince you.”

Patrick suddenly grinned as well. “You should know better by now, especially when you’ve been away for so long. Come on, Wentz. Move your ass.”

“If you do that little hip wiggle you do on stage all the time?” Pete asked hopefully, sliding his free hand over Patrick’s hip. “Come on, baby. Shake that ass for me.”

Both men dissolved into laughter as they finally made it into the bedroom and landed on the bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. “Off,” Patrick muttered as he pulled at Pete’s t-shirt. “Take this off. Get naked for me.”

“Anything you want,” Pete purred as he pulled away enough to yank his shirt over his head and toss it to the floor. He groaned as Patrick thumbed his nipples erect. “Oh…God, sweetheart…that’s good. Love your hands.”

“Love you,” Patrick murmured as he drew closer. “Love every inch of you.” He sucked on one, gently pulling on it with his teeth, a thrill going through him when Pete’s moans increased and the bassist’s fingers tangled in his hair, holding him in place. _Love you,_ he thought as he kissed his way to the other nipple and did the same. _Love you love you love you so much I love you._

“Patrick Patrick Patrick…God, sweet baby…yes,” Pete babbled, arching into the touch. He tugged at Patrick’s shirt. “Off. Let me touch you.”

Patrick pulled away long enough for him to toss his own t-shirt aside, sinking back into Pete’s arms. “Pete,” he whispered, shivering under his lover’s touch. “God…please…”

“Tell me what you want, baby,” Pete instructed. He brushed his fingers over the singer’s chest before moving lower, touching the waistband of his pants. “I’ll do anything.”

A moment later Pete found himself pushed flat on his back against the pillows with Patrick straddling him. His eyes went wide; he hadn’t expected this. “Hello.”

Patrick grinned. “Hi.” Leaning down, he cupped Pete’s face in his hands and gave him a tongue-tangling kiss. “I want to ride you,” he whispered.

Pete immediately let out a needy little whimper, remembering what Patrick has said during their shared phone call as his hands slid down to cup the redhead’s ass. “Yes.” Shaking hands slid around Patrick’s waist and began fumbling with his zipper. “Off. Take these fucking things off.”

Jeans and underwear soon joined their shirts on the floor as they went back to kissing and rubbing against each other. Patrick broke away with a moan, one hand flailing toward the bedside table drawer. “Where’s the stuff?”

Pete was ahead of him, finding the familiar tube and pressing it into his lover’s hand. “Go on. Get us both ready.”

Slicking up his fingers, Patrick wrapped his hand around Pete’s erection, grinning when he let out a loud moan in response. “Love hearing you like this,” he said before stealing another kiss.

Pete shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Love you,” he breathed, arching into Patrick’s touch. “God, Trick…you’d better move your ass, otherwise you’re gonna have to wait for that ride.”

“Think of something else,” Patrick ordered as he squeezed more gel onto his fingers. “Anything. Just don’t you fucking come yet. Not until I…Oh, God…”

Hearing Patrick’s voice break, Pete opened his eyes to see his lover reaching in between his legs and shoving his own fingers up his ass as far as they would go. “Jesus fuck, Patrick,” he breathed, his dark eyes wide.

“Like watching me?” Patrick asked with a shaky little laugh. “Can’t wait to feel your dick where my fingers are.”

“I can’t wait, either,” Pete said as he grasped Patrick’s hips to hold him steady. “Fuck, baby. You know how fucking hot you look doing that to yourself?”

“Rather you do it to me.” Drawing out his fingers, Patrick leaned forward and pressed the tip of Pete’s cock against his slicked up hole. “Love you.”

Leaning up enough to cup Patrick’s face in his hands, Pete pulled him into a hard kiss. “Love you, too. Love you so much, sweetheart.” Both men groaned as Patrick slowly sank down, not stopping until Pete was all the way inside of him.

Patrick paused, his chest heaving as he rested his forehead against Pete’s. “God, you feel good.”

“So do you, baby. So tight and hot and perfect. So fucking perfect.” He tilted his head back against the pillows, moaning as Patrick began to move. “That’s it, baby. God, look at you.”

“Rather look at you,” Patrick gasped as he rocked, biting his lip as he looked for that sweet spot deep inside him. “God, Pete…please.” He cried out, his fingers digging into the sheets. “Yes! Pete!”

“That’s it, Pattycakes. Fuck yourself on me.” One of Pete’s hands slid up Patrick’s chest to play with his nipples, pinching each one erect. “Come on, sweetheart. Come for me. I want to see you come all over me.”

Patrick whimpered as he moved faster, forcing Pete’s cock in deeper. “Please…please, Pete…please,” he begged, gasping. “God, yes…so good.” A shudder ran through him. “Please say you’re close. With me…want you with me.”

“Yes,” Pete said, sliding his hand down to wrap around the redhead’s leaking cock. “Beautiful baby…so perfect. Come for me.”

Letting out a loud cry, Patrick shuddered hard and forced Pete’s cock in as far as it would go before he came all over his lover’s hand. Pete watched hungrily, his eyes never leaving Patrick’s face before he let his own orgasm overtake him.

Patrick went limp on top of him, his breath coming in harsh gasps as his head fell against Pete’s shoulder. Pete slowly slid his arms around him, holding him close. “Okay?” he murmured, brushing his fingers through Patrick’s red hair. “Baby? You okay?”

“Mmm,” Patrick hummed, moving enough to curl up by Pete’s side. He frowned, his brow wrinkling as Pete drew away. “No…Pete…”

“Shh, baby. I’ll be right back, I promise,” Pete whispered, kissing the tip of his nose. “I’m gonna get something to clean us both up.” Crawling out of bed, Pete staggered to the bathroom.

A moment later, Patrick’s eyes flickered open as a warm washcloth went over his belly and between his legs. “Hey you,” he breathed.

“Hey you,” Pete whispered back as he gently kissed him. “You okay?”

“Mmm…wonderful.” He put a hand on Pete’s tattooed arm. “Come here.”

Tossing the washcloth in the general direction of the laundry basket, Pete slid back into bed and gathered Patrick close. “Love you, Pattycakes,” he said, burying another kiss in his bright hair.

“Love you,” Patrick whispered back as his eyes closed. A moment later, he was sound asleep.

Pete, however, remained wide awake, too wired to sleep. He gazed at Patrick for a long moment before carefully reaching over the side of his bed for his jeans. _Please let it be in there,_ he prayed as he fumbled through the pockets with one hand; the last thing he wanted to do was leave Patrick’s side to find what he was looking for.

He sighed with relief when he found his phone. _Thank God. Now what was that website again?_ Typing in “Semi-Colon Project”, he hit the enter button.

He spent the next hour reading story after story, going from incomprehensible rage to blinding tears. There was so much pain and heartbreak, but there was also hope, hope that things would get better with time and help and love. And with every testimonial, there was a tattoo.

Pete gazed at Patrick again before leaning over to brush a kiss against his forehead. “I love you,” he breathed as he carefully took a picture of Patrick’s tattooed wrist. Pete texted it to Joe and Andy a moment later along with a link to the website and a one word question. “Yes?”

He received two enthusiastic responses not even an hour later.

                                                                        *******

Three days later, Patrick opened his e-mail to find a set of photos and a link waiting for him.

Joe’s semi-colon tattoo was on the back of his hand, positioned squarely in the middle so it could be seen while he played his guitar. He was grinning as he made a V for Victory sign.

Since Andy didn’t have much visible bare space on his body left due to his formidable tattoo collection, his semi-colon was right below his left ear. With it was a pledge to keep his hair short enough for it to be clearly seen from now on.

Pete’s semi-colon was directly over his heart.

The link led him to the official Fall Out Boy webpage, where two buttons had been added. One led to the Semi-Colon Project’s blog and website. The other brought up a long list of phone numbers – it looked to Patrick like just about every single suicide hotline in the world had been listed.

Patrick sat in front of his laptop, tears streaming down his face as he stared at the screen. _Not just for me,_ he thought when he finally closed his e-mail and clicked off his computer. _But for everyone who has been in a dark place and doesn’t know how to get out._ He only hoped that it would help.

“Patrick, you okay?”

Patrick looked up at Pete, who was standing in the entryway to the kitchen with a book in his hand and a concerned frown on his face. “Yeah,” he said, sniffling. He wiped the tears away with his fingers. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” The frown turned into a scowl as Pete at down next to him. “What upset you?”

“Not upset,” Patrick corrected, managing a smile. “I just checked my e-mail.”

The scowl vanished a moment later. “Oh.”

“Oh,” the singer repeated. Reaching out, he plucked at Pete’s sleeve. “Off. Take this off. I want to see.” Obligingly Pete pulled his t-shirt over his head, exposing the necklace of thorns and the small tattoo under it. Patrick reached out, pausing as he was about to touch. “Does it hurt still?”

Pete shook his head. “It’s little. Little ones heal faster.”

Patrick carefully brushed a finger against it, his smile widening when Pete shivered in response. “When did you get it done?” he asked, suddenly puzzled. The two of them had been together practically every moment over the past few days.

“First thing yesterday morning. Went to the same place you did – the shop by Dr. Anne’s. I might go back sometime. They do good work.” Pete suddenly grinned. “I figured I was pretty safe from you finding out with how late you sleep.” Reaching out, Pete took the singer’s hand in his and held it against his bare chest. “And it’s not just for you.”

“I know.” Leaning forward, Patrick brushed his lips against it. Not just his survival, but Pete’s as well. “How did you convince Andy and Joe?”

“I didn’t. All I did was send them a picture of yours and the link to the blog. They jumped at the idea.” Pete’s dark eyes sparkled mischievously. “Granted, this wasn’t what I pictured when I came up with the idea of all of us getting matching tattoos…”

Patrick playfully smacked him on the shoulder. “Ass,” he commented, but the name was said without malice. “The website?”

“Gave the web designer a call after I got back from the tattoo parlor and asked if it was possible.” Pete put his shirt back on, shrugging. “Turns out it wasn’t a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Patrick corrected softly. “And it means more than you think.” He gave Pete a soft kiss. “Thank you.”

Smiling, Pete stole another. “I’m glad it helped,” he said, his voice quiet. Leaning back against the cushions, he drew Patrick into his arms. “About telling everyone what happened, did you still want to do that?” At Patrick’s firm nod, Pete elaborated his question further. “How? Did you have an idea?”

“I was thinking maybe going on “Ellen”?” Patrick looked up. “She’s always been nice to us whenever we’ve gone on. And I think with everything, she might understand better than someone else would.”

Pete nodded. “She probably will,” he agreed. “Any idea when you want to do this?”

Patrick bit his lip, thinking. “Not sure,” he finally said. “I do want to talk to Dr. Anne first, see what she says.” There was a pause. “And I don’t…I mean…I’m not sure …” He stopped, burying his face in Pete’s shoulder.

Brushing a kiss against Patrick’s forehead, he laid his cheek against his lover’s bright hair. “You’re not sure you’re ready yet,” he said, his voice soft. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” was the muffled reply. It was followed by a heavy sigh. “God, I’m a fucking mess.”

“Sweetheart, it’s only been a couple weeks…not even a month? It took me years before I was able to talk about it to anyone except my shrink. And even then I bullshitted my way through it half the time.” He ran a hand up and down Patrick’s back, trying to soothe. “You’re doing amazing.”

Patrick shrugged. “It doesn’t feel like it some days.”

“Trust me, you are. A hell of a lot better than I did.”

Patrick looked up. “Don’t compare the two. That was a completely different time in our lives, with a completely different set of events and triggers and other things.” He paused long enough to give Pete a kiss. “We got through it and we’re both still here. That should count as a win.”

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll count it that way from now on.” Pete ran his hands up and down Patrick’s arm in a light, tickling caress. “You know…I’m glad you’re still here.”

Patrick looked up again, meeting Pete’s dark eyes with his own. “I’m glad you’re still here, too,” he said before settling his head back on Pete’s shoulder. “This is nice,” he said after a moment.

‘Yeah. Peaceful,” Pete commented as well. He sighed. “And I really don’t want to move.”

“Who said you had to?” Patrick asked. “Unless I’m too heavy for you?”

“Don’t start with that. You’re perfect just like this.” Pete tightened his hold around the singer’s waist, kissing the top of his head as well. “Fucking gorgeous.”

Patrick blushed. “I think you’re a little bit biased, but never mind.” He snuggled even closer, his head on Pete’s shoulder as he closed his eyes.

He was on the verge of falling asleep when a distinct buzzing came from his jeans pocket. “Damn it,” he muttered as he dug for his phone, contemplating briefly on letting the call go to voice mail. The moment he saw whose name was on the display, however, he changed his mind. Eyes wide, he hit the green button. “Mom?”

_Thank God,_ Pete breathed, sending a silent prayer upward. _Thank God she finally called._ He had begun to doubt she would as the days had passed, leaving him wondering if he had done the wrong thing in talking to her. He carefully sat up, bringing Patrick with him. _Please let this be a good thing._

Meanwhile, Patrick’s entire attention was tied up with his phone. “Is everything okay?” Listening to the answer for a moment, Patrick shot Pete a look. “Yeah…I can talk. Just hang on a sec.” He put the phone against his shoulder. “Um…Pete…”

Pete didn’t let him finish, giving him a little push instead. “Go,” he said. “Go talk to her.” He got a grateful smile in return before Patrick headed into the kitchen.

Pete sat on the couch for a long moment, listening to the soft cadence of Patrick’s voice but not hearing the words. _Not angry. Not frustrated or sad, either. They’re just talking,_ he finally decided. Figuring it was safe to let him be, he got up and went upstairs.

                                                                        *****

Meanwhile, Patrick sat down at the kitchen table, one hand holding his phone to his ear while the other arm wrapped around his stomach, holding himself as he tried not to remember hateful words said in a cold voice. “Okay, I can talk now. Is everything all right? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, dear,” was the hesitant reply. “I just…I wanted to call and see if you were okay? I had heard…someone had told me that you…that there was a little trouble with things at the end of the tour?”

Patrick frowned even as his heart clenched. “Who told…” He stopped, realization hitting him a moment later. “Pete,” he said, answering his own question. “Pete told you.”

“He came by last week,” she said, confirming his suspicions. She was silent for a moment. “He said…he told me that…that you hurt yourself in some kind of accident?”

_She’s giving me a way out_ , Patrick immediately thought. _Me…and herself at the same time._ “It wasn’t an accident,” he said, his voice harsh, a part of him wanting to spare her feelings and an equally large part of him wanting her to know the truth and why at the same time. “I tried to kill myself after the show on the last night of the tour. Isn’t that what Pete told you?”

Silence. “Yes,” Patricia said finally, the word coming out as a sob. “He said…your wrists…and a knife…” She didn’t finish, instead asking. “Patrick…why?”

“You’re asking me why? Everything I told you…everything you said to me…and you’re asking me why?” Patrick didn’t give his mother a chance to answer before going on, his anger rising with every moment that passed, every word that he said.  “Because on the day I was going to ask the woman I loved to marry me, she left me instead, accusing me of sleeping with my best friend. Because it took her yelling it in my face for me to realize that I was in love with my best friend – my **male** best friend – and had been for pretty much the entire thirteen years I had known him. Because I spent two hours staring at the ceiling in my empty condo coming to terms with that one fact and how it was turning my life upside down and sideways, Because the only conclusion I could come to was the fact that he couldn’t ever love me back. Because when I came to you and told you everything, when I poured my heart and soul out to you, your reaction was to tell me to go and not come back until I had straightened myself out. Because when I went back out on tour I felt so dirty, so sick and disgusted with myself that by the end I didn’t see any other way out.” He paused. “Does that answer your question?”

He could hear her sniffling on the other end of the line. “I deserve that,” she said, her voice shaking a little. “And you have every right to be angry with me after everything I said to you.” She paused. “Pete said as much. He said he blamed Elisa and himself, but he blamed me as well.”

“It wasn’t just that, Mom. Depression and anxiety and self-doubt, they all had a lot to do with it.” He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining Pete’s barely contained fury. “It was a combination of everything, Mom. Not just you.”

More silence. “I just don’t understand,” Patricia finally said. “You loved Elisa. I know you did because it showed on your face every time you looked at her.  You never mentioned that the two of you were having problems. Not once the entire time you two were together.”

“And you’re my mother. I wouldn’t mention something like that to you even if we were.” Patrick paused. “But for what it’s worth, I didn’t think we were. She wasn’t happy with me being away as much as I was and we were having issues with other things.” He clamped his mouth shut just in time; he wasn’t about to go into detail about his sex life with his mother of all people. “But she never said she was unhappy. Her leaving surprised me as much as it’s surprising you.”

“I could call her,” Patricia suggested tentatively. “Try talking to her. We always got on well enough.”

Patrick found himself shaking his head even though she couldn’t see. “Thanks, Mom,” he said out loud. “But no.”

“But Patrick…”

“No, Mom.” Patrick’s voice was soft but firm. “She made her choice for whatever reason and I’m okay with that. Better than okay actually.” He paused, smiling a little. “Did take a while for me to get there, though. And I had a little help.”

“Pete,” Patricia said, answering her unvoiced question. After a moment, she did ask, “And you’re really…with Pete?”

“I’m really. With Pete,” Patrick confirmed. Still more silence and Patrick couldn’t help sighing a little. “What is it, Mom? I know there’s something else.”

“I just…I still don’t understand. Not really.” Patricia confessed. “I mean…I don’t have a problem with you being gay or bisexual, Patrick. You know I don’t. It’s just…you never were interested in other boys that way growing up. At least not as far as I could tell.”

“And I’m still not,” Patrick said, trying to be patient for his mother’s sake. “It’s not men I’m attracted to as a whole, Mom. It’s Pete.” He paused, his voice softening. “I love him and he loves me. We’re good together.  Always have been.”

“But everything he did before,” Patricia began. “Everything he put you and everyone else through…”

“He’s changed,” Patrick interrupted before he could go any further. “We both have. It took the hiatus to do it, but we’ve both managed to grow up a little. God knows we both needed to, not just him.”

Yet another pause. “He really has?” she asked, the doubt obvious in her voice. “He said he did…and it seemed like it when he came over…”

“He really has,” Patrick confirmed softly. “He worries about me constantly. He takes care of me. He hasn’t tried to change me or make me into someone I’m not and never could be.” Feeling his eyes prick with tears, Patrick concentrated on keeping his voice steady. “He’s helped me so much through all this. Whatever I’ve needed, he’s been there.”

Another pause and Patrick could just picture the doubt, the uncertainty on his mother’s face. “And he loves you?” she finally asked. “He makes you happy? Really?”

“Happier than I ever thought I could be,” Patrick said, a tear sliding down his cheek. He brushed it away. “Happier than I probably deserve to be. He makes me laugh and that’s something I haven’t done in a long time. I can’t remember the last time I did with Elisa.” He suddenly smiled. “But Pete makes me laugh every day.”

Silence. Finally, just when Patrick thought she had hung up, his mother said quietly, “All I have ever wanted for you is to be happy. If he does that as well as you say he does…” She sighed. “I really can’t object to that, can I?”

“I don’t think you can,” Patrick said quietly. “Mom, I know you’re not happy with any of this, but Pete…he’s the best thing for me right now.”

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “I know. I can hear it in your voice,” she said softly. “The way you sound right now?  You never sounded that way with Elisa.”  There was another pause. “You’re not coming back to Chicago, are you?”

“To live? No. Not for a while, anyway.” Patrick told her. “There’s too many memories there right now, both good and bad. Too many ghosts.” He ran a hand over his face. “I just…I can’t deal with any of it. Not right now.”

“I understand,” Patricia said, much to Patrick’s surprise. “When you father and I got divorced, remember how angry you were because we had to move? I felt the same way then. Every corner I turned, everything I glanced at was a memory.”

Patrick nodded. “I understand that a little better now.” He paused, swallowing hard. “Mom, I’m sorry. Springing all this on you like I did and then expecting you to accept it all with open arms and no questions…I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Patrick, you’ve always been able to come to me with anything. There was no reason why you should have thought this was any different. And I admit, it was a bit of a shock.” There was a pause. “But what I said…it was said in the spur of the moment because of that shock. It was too harsh and I didn’t think about how badly it could hurt you, saying what I said.” There was another pause. “I’m sorry, too. You’re my son and I love you. Whatever else changes, that never will.”

Patrick let out a ragged sigh. “Thanks, Mom. That helps more than you think.”

“Are you really all right?” Patricia asked again.

“I’m really all right, Mom. Really. I have good days and bad days, just like everyone else.” Patrick tried to make his voice as reassuring as he could. “I’m taking my meds and seeing a therapist twice a week and both those things are helping. It’s getting better.” He paused. “And Pete looks after me and makes sure I don’t get too lost in my own head. So really, I’m okay.”

Yet another pause. “Okay, then,” she said reluctantly. “I should go. Your aunt is going to be here soon. There’s a new restaurant on 51st Street downtown that we’re going to try for lunch.”

“Let me know how it is,” Patrick said, smiling a little. His mother always was the first to try a new place, whether it be a restaurant, a hair salon or a boutique. “And have a good time.”

“I’m sure we will. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen her. We’ll have a lot to catch up on.” There was another pause. “Patrick…if she asks…I mean…people must know about you and Elisa breaking up by now.”

“You would know better than I would about that, but I haven’t heard anything,” Patrick said. “If she asks, just tell her I’m okay and staying in LA for now. Nothing else.” He paused. “We’ve been trying to keep everything else quiet.”

“Of course. And it’s no one else’s business.” Patricia said, her voice firm. “And I won’t mention anything else, either.” Her voice softened. “I love you, dear.”

“I love you, too, Mom. I’ll call you in a couple days.” After saying good-bye he clicked off the phone and let it fall to the table, a ragged breath escaping him as he put a hand over his eyes. _Thank God_ , he thought over and over, feeling as though an entire building had been lifted off his shoulders. Things would probably never go back to the easy relationship he and his mother had before, but at least they were speaking to each other again. For Patrick, that was the most important thing.

_And I should thank someone else for that_ , too, he thought. Getting up, he swiped his tears away and went to find Pete.

He found the bassist on the balcony outside his bedroom, simply leaning against the railing looking out at the expansive back yard. Going over to him, Patrick pressed himself against his back, wrapped his arms around his waist and hugged him as hard as he could while burying his face in his broad shoulder.

Pete put a hand over Patrick’s, squeezing his clutching fingers. “Hey you,” he said softly. “Go okay?”

Patrick sniffled, trying very hard not to start crying again. “I don’t know what you said to her,” he said, his voice catching. “But thank you.”

“All I did was talk to her,” Pete said gently as he turned around, taking Patrick into his arms. “I think she just needed to be reminded that she’s not the only one who loves you.” He kissed the top of Patrick’s head. “Sure you’re okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” Patrick let himself relax in Pete’s strong arms. “She understands a little better now, I think. She didn’t before. And she seems okay with it. At least more than she was before.” He sighed. “I don’t think she’s going to rush right out and join PFLAG tomorrow, though.”

“She’s still working things out, sweetheart. Give her some time.” He planted a kiss on Patrick’s temple next. “What else did she say? Anything?”

“She offered to talk to Elisa, ask her why,” Patrick said. “I told her no.”

“Don’t you want to know why?”

Patrick shrugged. “It wouldn’t make any difference now. And God only knows what she’d say out of spite.” He closed his eyes. “I’m not going to put my mother through that. I’m okay with letting it go.”

“Okay, babe. Your call.” Pete began running a hand up and down Patrick’s back. “I’m glad you’re working things out with your mom. I know how bad it was tearing you apart.”

“Thanks to you.” Patrick drew away enough to smile at him. “I’m glad you decided not to listen to me when I asked you not to do anything.”

Pete shrugged, a sheepish smile crossing his face. “I hate seeing you unhappy. If there was any possible way to fix it, I was going to try.” He brushed a finger over Patrick’s cheek. “I’m just glad it worked.”

Patrick leaned into the touch. “Don’t know what I’d do what I’d do without you.”

“And I don’t even want to think about it.” Pete leaned in enough to steal another kiss.

The kiss lengthened and intensified, with Patrick digging his fingers into the fabric of Pete’s t-shirt as it continued. Letting out a soft moan, he opened his mouth under Pete’s, tasting coffee and sweetness. Pete responded by tightening his arms around Patrick’s waist, holding him as close as he possibly could.

When they broke away, both men were flushed and breathless. “God, Pete,” Patrick whispered, tilting his head back as Pete began trailing kisses down his neck. “Please…want you…”

“You got me,” Pete murmured into his ear. He licked at a pulse point, causing Patrick to shiver in response. “Want to do it out here on the balcony?”

Patrick shuddered even as he shook his head. “Can’t. Middle of the day. Someone will see.”

“My nearest neighbor is at least ten miles away that way,” Pete said, waving a hand in the general direction of the distant tree line. “So unless he has bionic vision or is part bird, I think we’re safe enough.” His hand slid down Patrick’s chest to cup his growing erection. “You really want to say no, baby?”

Patrick whimpered and squirmed under Pete’s touch. “Please.” He sagged against the outside wall even as he arched into Pete’s hands. “Please…anything…”

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Pete soothed, crooning into the singer’s ear. “Love you. Love you so much, baby.” He nipped at his lobe, causing Patrick to cry out in response. “Compromise? I could blow you. Would you like that? The two of us, out here in the open and me with your dick in my mouth?”

“Yes,” Patrick gasped immediately. “Yes, Pete…please…” He let out a long, low moan as Pere undid his zipper and reached inside. “Your hands…love your hands…”

“Look at you,” Pete marveled as he drew out Patrick’s cock and stroked it. “So fucking gorgeous out here like this. So damn perfect.” He gave Patrick another hungry kiss. “Feel good? There’s a breeze. Can you feel it on your dick?”

“Yes.” He opened his eyes in time to see the bassist slowly sink to his knees, licking his lips before taking the entire length of him down his throat. “Pete!”

Pete hummed in response, his tongue swirling around the head of Patrick’s cock as he licked up the salty sweet fluid leaking out. He braced his hands against Patrick’s thighs, holding him steady as he sucked. He looked up, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of his lover’s head tilted back, eyes closed and a thin trickle of sweat sliding down the side of his face. _Beautiful,_ Pete thought. _My fucking beautiful baby_.

Suddenly, Patrick jerked hard in Pete’s arms, a loud cry escaping him as he dug his fingers into the bassist’s arms and came down his throat. Moaning, Pete eagerly swallowed everything down, licking him clean before standing up to kiss his cheek. “Perfect,” he whispered, gathering him close. “My beautiful darling sweetheart perfect golden angel baby.”

Patrick shuddered at every word, resting his head on Pete’s shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. “God…love you so much,” he finally managed to get out.

“Love you.” Tucking Patrick back into his pants, Pete gave him another soft kiss. “Come on, sweetheart. Let me take you to bed.”

“Yes.” Grabbing Pete’s hand with one of his, he opened the sliding glass door with the other before pulling him into the bedroom. “Want you to fuck me until I scream.”

“Definitely a good place to start.” Pulling the door closed, Pete let go of Patrick’s hand long enough to pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the floor. “And maybe after you recover, you can fuck me.”

“Absolutely. Anything you want.” Patrick promised rashly as his own t-shirt landed somewhere near Pete’s. He reached down to cup his lover’s erection through his jeans. “And I want to suck you until you come on my face. Like porn.”

Pete couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him, his eyes going wide. “Jesus, Patrick,” he breathed as he felt himself going instantly, achingly hard. “You keep talking like that and I won’t get a chance to do anything except come in my pants.”

The singer suddenly grinned. “Not gonna let that happen,” he said before pulling Pete into a hard kiss. They fell onto the bed, limbs tangled together, losing themselves in each other.

                                                                        *****

The next morning, Patrick came downstairs to find an opened spiral notebook on top of his closed laptop. Picking it up, he smiled when he caught sight of Pete’s distinctive handwriting. _When did he find the time?_ He wondered as he sat down on the couch, wincing a little. The two of them had spent half the night making love, finally succumbing to exhaustion somewhere around two am. Patrick glanced at the clock on the wall and grimaced; it was barely nine. Promising himself a nap later on, he pushed the question aside for a moment and began to read.

He was just finishing when he felt a kiss on top of his head. “Hey you,” Pete murmured huskily.

“Hey you,” Patrick returned, looking up. He grinned at the sight of Pete in his familiar battered Metallica t-shirt and boxers, his hair going every which way. “You awake?”

“Barely.” He yawned as he gave his belly a scratch. “What are you reading?”

Patrick held up the notebook. “What you left me. When did you find time to write it?”

“When it woke me up pounding on my brain at about 5:30 this morning.” Pete gave the redhead’s shoulder a squeeze. “I need coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. Want some?”

“Yes, please.” He kissed Pete’s stubbled cheek. “Thanks.” He watched Pete shuffle into the kitchen before going back to the scribbled out lyrics.

When Pete came out several minutes later with two steaming cups of coffee, Patrick was in the middle of booting up his laptop. “How’re you feeling?” he asked as he watched Pete sit down, not missing the little wince on his face as he did so.

“Little sore. Nothing a hot bath won’t fix.” He gave Patrick a kiss on the cheek as he put one of the cups down nearby. “You?”

“Pretty much the same. And a hot bath sounds like a wonderful idea.” Tapping a few keys with one hand Patrick called up the music program that he used. “This is beautiful,” he said next as he waved a hand at the notebook on the table.

“Yeah? You like it?” Pete asked, a hopeful note in his voice. “It’s rough, I know…”

“It’s gorgeous,” Patrick corrected, leaning over to kiss him again, this time on the lips. “You wrote it for the music I showed you, didn’t you?”

Pete nodded. “I could hear you singing it as I wrote it down, clear as a bell.” He took a long sip of his coffee. “I was hoping maybe it would fit?”

“Let’s see.” Hitting a few more keys, music began coming out of the computer’s speakers. Patrick closed his eyes for a moment as the melody played, his mind adding Pete’s words almost automatically. When it stopped, he played it again, this time softly singing the words. His voice caught when he realized the meaning behind them, the depth of feeling they contained. _Me_ , he thought, his own heart brimming over with emotion. _He wrote this for me._

When he was done, he stopped the music and looked at Pete, his eyes shining. “I’m not sure I’m going to able to sing this in public,” he confessed, his voice shaking a little.

“Honestly? I’m not sure I’m going to be able to play it, either,” Pete said as well. “It’s hitting a little too close to home. You know?”

“Yeah.” Reaching over, Patrick took Pete’s hand in his and squeezed his fingers. “It’s beautiful, though. Thank you.”

Pete squeezed back. “Maybe…maybe I can write some safe for singing lyrics? Save this for us?”

To his surprise, Patrick shook his head. “This is perfect the way it is. Don’t even think of changing it.” He paused, thinking. “We could do it on “Ellen”? I need to pull it together, but that won’t take long. And Joe and Andy, they need to hear it and add their parts.”

Pete nodded. “It’s an idea. Pretty good one, too.” He paused. “You still want to do that? Go on her show and talk about everything?”

Patrick nodded as well. “Maybe not tomorrow, but soon.” A doubtful look suddenly crossed his face. “If you’re okay with it, too? I don’t think…I’m not sure I can do this if you’re not there, too.”

“Of course I’m gonna be there. No way in hell are you doing this by yourself. And I know Joe and Andy are gonna say the same thing.” Pete bumped their shoulders together, offering a reassuring smile. “I told you before, sweetheart. Whatever you need to get through this. We’ll all help you.”

Patrick let out a ragged sigh and leaned forward enough to press his forehead against Pete’s. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Pete waved a hand at the laptop. “Sing it again?”

Smiling, Patrick reached over enough to tap a few keys with one finger before hitting “Play”.


	5. Chapter 5

Two weeks later, Pete was in the middle of tuning his bass during their sound check when he was jabbed in the ribs with a very hard object. “Ow,” he grumbled before he looked up to glare at Andy. “And you’re poking me because…”

“I think you need to check on our boy,” Andy said softly, pointing at Patrick with his drumstick. “He looks like he’s about to throw up.”

Pete looked, taking in the singer’s too pale face and shaking hands before nodding. “I’ve got it. Thanks.” Taking off his bass, he leaned it against the wall before going over to Patrick. He slid his arms around his lover’s waist, his front pressing against the other man’s back. “Hey you,” he murmured softly into his ear.

Patrick immediately relaxed into the embrace, putting one hand over Pete’s. “Hey you.”

Hearing a slight tremor in Patrick’s voice, Pete tightened his hold as he pressed a kiss against his ear. “You okay?”

For an answer, Patrick let out a shuddering sigh and closed his eyes. “Not really.” His fingers dug into Pete’s. “Thank God you’re here.”

“Thank Andy. I was tuning my bass.” He laid his cheek against Patrick’s bright hair. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Not wrong,” Patrick corrected. “Just…you know…nervous.”

Pete nodded; Patrick always got a case of the jitters before interviews and TV appearances. “Talk me through it,” he instructed softly. The best way to calm the singer down usually was to get him talking, Pete had found. Voicing his fears usually helped Patrick in dissipating them.

Patrick twined his fingers together with Pete’s. “Telling the three of you and Dr. Anne about everything is one thing,” he finally said. “Telling Ellen and a studio audience…a roomful of strangers…is another thing. Telling millions of people on live TV,” He waved his free hand in front of him and Pete could see it shaking. “That’s a whole other thing entirely.”

“Ah. Okay.” Pete tightened his arms around Patrick as he kissed his cheek. Last – and biggest – fear first. “You remember she’s taping this, right?”

Patrick turned enough in his arms to look at him, his hazel eyes wide. “What?”

“She’s taping this,” Pete repeated. “That’s one of the first things we arranged for. Insisted on, even. So if you need to take a break or we need to continue this another day, we can with no problem.”

Patrick immediately sagged against him. “Oh, thank God,” he breathed. “I forgot. I forgot completely.”

“Not surprised. You’ve had a lot on your mind the past couple days,” Pete said, trying to soothe. Rehearsing the new song with Joe and Andy, meetings with Ellen and her people to iron out all the details and extra therapy sessions with Dr. Anne had filled their days to the brim, leaving them both exhausted. It was a wonder to Pete that Patrick was doing as well as he was.

Patrick rested his forehead against Pete’s. “What else did I forget? I know there’s more, but there’s a big empty space in my head right now.”

“She’s only got about half of her normal studio audience,” Pete said. “She didn’t want to overwhelm you with too many people, considering everything. There won’t be a Q and A either. And after we’re done and her crew does all their technical voodoo, her people are going to call us back in and let us see the final version before it goes on the air. You’ll get final veto.”

“And she was okay with that?” Patrick asked, the worried look still on his face.

“Completely,” Pete’s voice was firm. “She wants you to feel safe while you’re talking about all this. She knows how hard it’s going to be and how important it is to you.” He paused long enough to brush his lips against Patrick’s temple. “And me and Joe and Andy…we’re gonna be right with you every step of the way. The minute you get uncomfortable or you need a break or you feel you can’t get through it anymore, you say so and everything stops until you feel like you can go on again. And if it takes a couple days or you change your mind, that’s okay.” He gave Patrick another brush of a kiss. “Okay, sweetheart?”

Patrick nodded. “Yeah. I think so.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “And you’ll be right there?”

“Right there next to you every minute we’re not playing,” Pete promised. He suddenly grinned. “I’ll even hold your hand if you want me to.”

Pete had meant it to be a joke, but Patrick drew away enough to meet his eyes, a hopeful look on his face. “Would you?” he asked. “I think that might help.”

“Yeah?” When Patrick nodded again Pete’s grin became even wider. “Okay. Sure.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not for one second.” Pete squeezed Patrick’s fingers for emphasis.

“And if she sees it and asks?” Patrick continued. “About this? About us?”

“That’s your call,” Pete said, still smiling. When Patrick opened his mouth to protest, Pete quickly silenced him with yet another kiss. “Baby, I’m perfectly okay with coming out. I would shout it from the rooftop with a megaphone if I could. And honestly? Most people think I’m bi at the very least anyway. I’ve been dealing with that since I first went on stage with eyeliner on.” He paused, turning serious. “But you haven’t. Which is why I’m leaving this up to you. If you’re comfortable with saying it, great. If you’re not, that’s okay, too.” His grin returned. “You’re pretty much stuck with me either way.”

Patrick let out another shaky sigh and smiled as well. “God, what did I ever do to deserve you?”

Pete reached out to brush a lock of red hair back into place. “You’re you,” he said simply. “That’s all you’ve ever needed to be.”

 “I love you so fucking much.” Grabbing his jacket, Patrick pulled him into a hard, tongue-tangling kiss.

It was only the sound of someone pointedly clearing his throat that caused them to break apart. They turned to see Andy grinning at them and Joe with a long suffering look on his face. “Are you two done playing kissy-face?” he asked, sighing melodramatically.

Patrick blushed as Pete made a point of sticking out his tongue. “For now,” he said, grinning. He looked at Patrick. “Better?”

Patrick nodded. “Better.”

Just then there was a knock on the green room door and a young man wearing a headset came in. “We’re ready when you guys are,” he said.

They all looked at Patrick, who nodded again. “We’ll be right out,” Pete said. The tech gave a thumbs up and closed the door behind him.

Andy clapped Patrick on the shoulder. “You got this,” he said, his voice soft and sure.

Joe adjusted his guitar strap, the semi-colon tattoo prominent on the back of his hand. “We’ll be right there with you, man. Every step,” he said offering up a reassuring smile.

Picking up his bass, Pete slung it over his shoulder before leaning in to give Patrick a quick kiss. “Love you, Lunchbox,” he said, his dark eyes shining.

Patrick surveyed the three men in front of him – his band mates, his best friends, his brothers. _I wouldn’t be here without them,_ he thought, his heart overflowing with emotion. “I love you guys,” he said, grinning at them all. Slinging his guitar over his shoulder, he set his fedora on straight. “Let’s do this.”

                                                                        *****

The last chord of Pete’s guitar faded into silence as Patrick backed away from the microphone, head held high in a defiant pose for the camera. The small studio audience erupted into cheers and clapping a moment later, nearly deafening them with their response. _Definitely didn’t expect that_ , Patrick thought, glancing over at Joe, who had the same surprised look on his face.

“Damn.” Andy muttered as he came down from his drum kit. “That was…” he stopped, at a loss for words.

Pete, however, looked elated, practically bouncing on his toes as he came close enough to bump Patrick’s shoulder. “Perfect,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “You were perfect.”

Patrick was about to shake his head in denial when Ellen came up to them, a wide smile on her face. “That was amazing,” she enthused as they took off their guitars and handed them over to the three waiting techs. “I think you have half the audience in tears.”

“Really?” Patrick asked, his eyes going wide. He looked around; sure enough, a good many of the audience members were dabbing at their eyes with tissues even as they smiled and clapped. “Oh, God. I didn’t mean to make anyone cry.”

Joe and Andy nearly fell over themselves laughing even as Patrick turned around to glare at them. Pete, however, slung an arm around the singer’s shoulder, giving him a squeeze. “Good cry, Trick.” He looked at Ellen. “Right?”

“Yes, definitely good cry. It was beautiful.” Ushering the four of them to the huge sofa in the middle of the stage, she sat down in the chair in front of them, waiting as techs set out bottles of water and clipped on microphones. “Now, I just want everyone to remember that this is being taped. So if anyone needs a break just give a yell, okay?” The four men nodded. “As for our studio audience, this isn’t going to run like a normal show. There’s good chance that this will run much longer than an hour, so we’re going to play it by ear.” She gestured to the cameraman and he swung over to face them, the little red light coming on. “And we’re back with Fall Out Boy. Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley. I want to talk a little bit about the song you just played, first off. It’s brand new, isn’t it?”

“Really brand new,” Joe commented, smiling. He turned to look at Patrick and Pete, who were sitting next to him. “When did you two actually finish it? Yesterday? The day before?”

Pete laughed. “It wasn’t that bad. We actually put the finishing touches on it last week while rehearsing it for this show. We haven’t even recorded it yet.”

Patrick nodded. “We have studio time booked for next week.”

“So is this going to be out as a single soon?” Ellen asked. “Are you working on a new album?”

“We’re not really sure,” Pete said, his voice hesitant. “We actually just got off tour a couple months ago and usually we like to take it easy for a bit before going back to work. This just kinda happened.” He shrugged. “But I’m sure once we get into the studio things will start coming along.” He looked at Patrick for confirmation. “We’re not in any big rush and we have a lot of things up in the air right now.” Patrick nodded as well.

“Personal things?” Ellen asked and when Pete nodded she went on. “The four of you actually requested to come on to the show because of recent personal events, is that right?”

“Yes,” Patrick said, nodding again. He took a deep breath to gather his courage, his heart skipping a beat when he felt Pete’s hand against his. _He meant it_ , he thought, the touch already steadying him. _He meant every word._ He hooked their pinky fingers together, making a mental note to thank Pete when everything was over. “We came on…I came on…because I wanted to be open about something I’ve been going through recently. And I’m hoping that by being open and honest about it, that it not only helps me in dealing with things, but that it helps other people as well.” He forced a smile. “At least that’s the plan.”

Ellen gave him an encouraging smile. “And the rest of the guys are here for…” She looked at the other three, waiting for an answer.

“Moral support,” Pete supplied grinning.

Joe suddenly coughed. “Mother hen,” he added, shooting the bassist a look. Pete responded by flashing Joe the finger out of camera shot.

Smiling, Andy chimed in. “What Patrick went through – what he’s still going through – affects all of us. Not just because he’s our band mate, but because he’s our friend. We want to help him in any way we possibly can.” He shrugged. “This is one way.”

“Whatever he needs,” Joe added.

Ellen looked at Patrick. “Pretty solid group of friends,” she commented.

“The best. And more. I literally wouldn’t be here today without them.” He took another deep breath, swallowing hard before he went on. “A couple months ago, on the last night of our tour, I tried to kill myself.” Hearing some of the audience members gasp, he kept going, keeping his focus on Ellen. “As soon as the concert was over I got off stage and went back to our tour bus, found a knife in the kitchen and slit my wrists in the bathroom’s shower stall.” He held out his free hand, showing the underside of his wrist. There was still a faint pink scar.

Ellen took a long look before meeting Patrick’s eyes with her own. “I can’t imagine how bad things must have been,” she finally said. “You’ve always been so energetic and happy whenever you’ve been on.”

“When I did it, I was in a pretty dark place,” Patrick confessed. “And at the time, I didn’t see another way out. And it wasn’t just one thing happening that drove me to do it. It was a series of things which kind of snowballed out of my control. I didn’t know how to fix it and I certainly didn’t know how to deal with it.” He paused. “But most of all, I didn’t know how to ask for help. I had no idea that I even could and I thought…I thought that if I tried to…if I told people what was going on…that I’d lose them and they would walk away.” He forced a smile. “I know a little better now, but at the time, I wasn’t thinking too clearly.”

Ellen nodded in understanding. “What happened? Can you tell us?”

Patrick nodded, feeling Joe’s shoulder press against his and Pete’s finger still hooked with his own. It was comforting, the touch of his friends and it gave him the courage to go on. “On the last break in our tour – we take breaks now every couple weeks to go home, see our families, and get away from each other for a few days. Four guys on a tour bus – after a while, you start to drive each other a little crazy. Especially with how different we are.” When Ellen nodded again he continued. “So on our last break, I went home to Chicago to see my girlfriend.” He paused, swallowing hard in an effort to keep his voice steady. “I had an engagement ring in my pocket. I was going to ask her to marry me. The tour was wrapping up, I’d be home more. I thought it would be the perfect time to start planning our future together.”

“And that didn’t happen,” Ellen prompted.

Patrick shook his head. “No, it didn’t. I went home to find her suitcases by the door and my girlfriend packing her things. We ended up having a screaming fight where she accused me of cheating on her.” He shook his head again. “Which I hadn’t. That’s the one thing I would never do, because I’ve been on the other side of the fence. I know how it feels to have your trust violated in such a way. I’d never do that to someone I love. Ever.”

“But she thought you had?” Ellen asked.

Patrick nodded. “To make things worse, she thought I was cheating on her with a friend of mine. A good friend.” He debated for a split second whether or not to say Pete’s name, to go that far. Finally, he just said, “A male friend.”

Ellen’s eyes went wide as she leaned forward. “She thought you were having a gay affair?” Patrick nodded again. “But you’re not gay or bisexual, are you?”

Patrick hesitated. “I wasn’t,” he finally said. “Being with another man was something that had never occurred to me. Even when I was younger, when the band was starting out, there was never the urge to…experiment, I guess you could say? I was always perfectly happy with who I was attracted to, who I chose to be with. And for the longest time for me, that was with a woman.” There was a pause. “So when all this happened…it was a shock.”

“What did happen?”

Patrick paused for a moment, carefully considering his words. “As I said, we started fighting almost immediately, with my girlfriend hurling accusations at me and me denying every single one of them, because it was the truth then. I hadn’t done anything. I wasn’t sleeping with anyone but her. I had just come off the second leg of Fall Out Boy’s most expansive tour ever; some nights I was lucky I made it back to the hotel room or the bus to get a couple hours of sleep before we went on to the next city. Between the shows and all the press we were doing, we were all exhausted by the time the break came up.” He took another deep breath and continued on. “But when I kept telling her that, she didn’t believe me. Finally she said that I may not have done anything yet, but I still wanted to, because…because I apparently made a point of putting my friend first before anything or anyone else. Before my family, my band, my other friends, before even her.” Patrick paused again, swallowing hard. “She said…about my friend…she said that I was dreaming about him, that I’d say his name in my sleep.”

“And you believe her?”

The singer shrugged. “Why would she lie? But when she told me that…that was something I couldn’t deny. Because I had been dreaming about him. Not sexual ones…just ordinary ones.” Patrick felt Pete’s fingers curve around his, gently squeezing them. “But this person…this man…he’s my friend. I’ve known him for years. I honestly thought that was normal.” He paused. “It took being screamed at for me to realize that maybe…maybe my feelings went beyond friendship.” A shaky little smile crossed Patrick’s face. “Sorry. I’m probably not making a lot of sense.”

“You are to me,” she responded kindly. “The one thing I learned going through all this myself is that sexuality and attraction is a constantly evolving thing that grows and changes over time and circumstances.” Ellen suddenly smiled. “Which makes things really confusing most of the time.”

Patrick nodded. “That actually explains a lot about what I was going through at the time. It kinda felt like being hit by a curve ball going ninety miles an hour.”

Ellen nodded. “So while you were being hit by that curve ball…”

“She’s still packing her things, asking me how long all this has been going on, telling me how she’s through being second best, calling me names while saying she never wants to see me again…all sorts of things. And all I remember doing is standing there shell-shocked with a ring box in my pocket.” He swallowed hard, the hand Pete wasn’t holding digging itself into his thigh. “I remember asking her to stay, that we needed to talk about this. I remember telling her that I loved her.” He sighed. “But at that point, I don’t think she was listening to anything I was saying. Her mind was made up and everything I said, every denial I gave her…it just made things worse.”

“I can’t imagine how worse,” Ellen commented.

Patrick grimaced. “When I told her that I loved her, she said “maybe you do. But you love him more,” he said. “And just when she was picking up her things and was about to walk out the door, she said “I know who you gave your heart to, and it wasn’t me.”” There was a pause. “Then she left.”

Ellen winced. “I guess that is worse.” She paused. “Did you go after her? Try to stop her?”

“No,” Patrick said, shaking his head. “And maybe I should have. Maybe I should’ve tried harder to explain my side of things or tried to find out what I had to done to cause her to think the way she was thinking. I don’t know.” He paused, reaching up to adjust his fedora with his free hand. “I was still pretty stunned when she left, with all sorts of doubts and thoughts running through my head that I just…let her go.” He managed a wan smile. “At the time? I couldn’t do anything else.”

She nodded in understanding. “So after she left?”

“I collapsed onto the couch and stared at the ceiling for two hours while I had an identity crisis,” Patrick said, still faintly smiling. “Everything I said, everything she said. All my doubts and feelings and desires…not just for my friend, but about me. Everything just kind of jumbled together into this giant toxic soup.” He wrinkled his nose. “It wasn’t a good feeling.”

Ellen nodded again, the understanding look returning to her face. “I’ve been there. It isn’t.”

Patrick nodded yet again. “And usually when I have a crisis – this was definitely not my first one – there are a couple people I can call who help talk me out of it.” He turned to look at Joe before turned to look at Andy and Pete. “Three of them are sitting right here.” They all grinned at each other in solidarity before Patrick continued. “That night, though…none of the guys were available. So I called the only other person I could.” Patrick paused. “I called my mom.”

“And after you called, you went to see her?” Patrick nodded. “And told her what?”

“Everything,” Patrick said simply. “The moment I walked through the door, everything just came spilling out in one giant rush. I sat down at the kitchen table and talked for a good hour, I think. And she was quiet the entire time. Just sat there and let me go on and on about my girlfriend and what she accused me of, my feelings for my friend, how much I loved him, how much I wanted him, wondering what I was going to do about it. Just…everything.” He made a broad sweeping gesture with his hand. “And she didn’t say a word. She just sat there the whole time and listened until I was done.”

“And then?” Ellen prompted.

“Then? I looked up at her…and she had the strangest expression on her face. As if she couldn’t believe what I was saying.” Patrick felt Joe inch just a little bit closer, pressing his entire leg against his own even as Pete tightened his fingers around his. The combined touch gave him the courage to keep going. “I remember…she asked me if I had been drinking. Or if I was on something. When I told her I wasn’t, she asked me if I knew what I was saying. If I understood what I was telling her.”

“She was trying to give you a way out.” Ellen guessed and Patrick nodded.

“So when I told her I knew exactly what I was saying, that I knew my own mind, what I wanted…” Patrick stopped for a moment, shaking his head. “Let’s put it this way, she wasn’t happy.”

“Which part wasn’t she happy with?” Ellen asked softly. “The you being in love with another man? Or who you were in love with? I guess I should ask if she knew who the person was first off?”

“She does know who he is,” Patrick said, still being careful. “As for everything else…at the time, I wasn’t sure what she was thinking. All I know is that she…at the time she…” He stopped, swallowing hard. “She said that even though I was her son and she loved me, that there were certain things she couldn’t accept.” He felt Pete’s hand squeeze his, the bassist’s thumb caressing his fingers. “And me being in love with another man was one of those things.”

Ellen immediately winced. “That definitely isn’t good.”

“No,” Patrick agreed. “She then told me that she didn’t want to have anything to do with me until I had straightened myself out and she asked me to leave.” He paused. “So I left.”

“You didn’t try talking to her then?” Ellen asked, leaning forward a little. “Reasoning with her in any way?”

Patrick shook his head. “And again, maybe I should have. Maybe I should have stayed and tried to explain things a little better than I did. But right then, I just couldn’t.” There was a pause. “I had never seen her so hostile and all of that anger was directed at me because of who I had chosen to love. To have my mother, the one person I could go to no matter what the reason turn her back on me…” Feeling his eyes begin to sting, Patrick swiped at them with his free hand, trying with everything he had to keep the tears at bay. “So I did the only thing I could do, the only thing I was capable of doing.” He let out the breath he was holding. “I left.”

Ellen’s voice was soft as she asked the next question. “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere, really,” Patrick said after a moment. “I drove around aimlessly for about an hour or so. Kind of surprised I didn’t get into an accident, to be honest. The last thing on my mind was driving.” Joe’s hand, hidden from the audience, began sliding up and down Patrick’s back in an effort to comfort. “I remember stopping at a liquor store and buying them out of the biggest bottles of whiskey they had right before they closed. The bottles had dust on them, they had been there for so long.” He felt Pete’s hand holding onto his tightly, giving him the strength enough to keep the words coming. “I drove around some more before finally checking into one of those no-tell motels by the airport. Because…because after everything, I couldn’t go back to my condo and I couldn’t think of any place else I could go.” He caught Joe frowning at him and shook his head again. “And before you say it, no I couldn’t have called you. It was pushing two in the morning by then. Marie would have murdered us both.”

At Ellen’s puzzled frown, Joe explained, “My wife, who was a little over a month pregnant at the time and had around the clock morning sickness. I think she was sleeping about twenty minutes a day in between bouts of throwing up.”

Patrick nodded. “I remember you telling us that right before we went on break. No way in hell was I going to disturb you with all my drama.” He paused, his free hand rubbing his knee. “So I checked in, collapsed on the bed and just…you know…started drinking. And I drank and cried until I dropped off to sleep.” There was another pause. “I did that for four days.”

Ellen’s eyes widened. “God,” she murmured. “You’re lucky you didn’t give yourself alcohol poisoning.”

A wan smile appeared on Patrick’s face. “There’s a saying that God protects drunks and fools. Those days, that was pretty accurate.” He paused, swallowing hard before continuing. “On the fifth day, I managed to sober myself up a little, mostly because I ran out of whiskey.” He went on. “I went back to the condo and discovered that my girlfriend had been back there at some point. The rest of her things were gone and she had left her keys along with a note and a box about so big,” He measured with one hand. “On the dining room table.”

‘What did the note say?”

“More of what she had said to me before. She felt betrayed and hurt and lied to. She was tired of being second best and being played for a fool. She never wanted to see or hear from me ever again.” He paused again. “You know, all the usual things one person says to someone they love when they’re telling that person to go to hell.”

Ellen winced at the obvious pain in Patrick’s voice. “And the box?”

Patrick let out a heavy sigh. “The box was full of every tangible thing I had given her while we were together. Every Christmas and birthday present, every anniversary and Valentine’s Day gift, every silly, romantic little thing I had ever given her just because. There were also ticket stubs and memory cards and photos…every little piece of our life together.” He paused, swiping at his eyes again. “I think that’s when it really hit me that she wasn’t coming back, that it was really over between us. It hadn’t really registered before. But it did then.”

“I’m sorry,” Ellen said, her voice full of sympathy. “I can’t imagine losing someone like that and knowing that their reasoning…why they did what they did…was wrong.” He paused. “What happened then?”

“I closed up the box after I put the engagement ring in it. I still had it with me after four days,” Patrick said, letting him lean back into Joe’s touch, Pete’s hand still clasping his, Andy sitting nearby. “Called my lawyer to arrange having everything that was left packed up and put into storage and the condo put up for sale, packed up my clothes and my guitars and just…went back out on tour.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” Ellen asked, a note of surprise in her voice. Patrick shook his head. “Why not? Didn’t you think they’d understand?”

“About the break-up, sure,” Patrick said. “We’ve all had our share of relationships that have ended for whatever reason. But the reason why? And everything else besides?” He shook his head again. “At the time, I was too heartsick, too ashamed about who I thought I had turned into and who I had hurt because of it. I thought…I was sure that there was something wrong with me. And if they found out, they’d hate me and I’d lose them.” He let out a shuddering sigh. “These three guys, they’re family. At the time, I thought they were all the family I had left. I couldn’t take a chance on that happening.” He shrugged. “So I just kept quiet.”

Ellen turned her attention to the other three men. “Did any of you notice a change? See something wrong?”

“We did and we didn’t,” Pete said carefully. “We did notice how quiet he was in between shows and public appearances, how much more he was keeping to himself, but we were all pretty much like that by then.”

Joe nodded in agreement. “You gotta remember that we were on the last leg of our most expansive tour in over four years after being apart for so long. We were all pretty much done in by then. So when Patrick kinda curled up into a ball and turned into a hedgehog, we all just thought you know…situation normal.”

“Patrick being Patrick,” Andy added.

Patrick turned to look at Joe just then, raising an eyebrow. “Hedgehog?” he echoed.

Joe in turn gave him a look that dared him to argue. “Dude, you practically had little prickly spikes coming out all over you, your temper was on such a hair trigger.” He turned back to Ellen. “We all had plenty of experience with that from before, so we all knew the signs and kept our distance.” Andy nodded in agreement.

Patrick turned to look at Pete, who smiled and shrugged. “It fits.”

“Don’t you dare,” Patrick ordered half-seriously as he caught the mischievous glint in Pete’s dark eyes. “Lunchbox and Pattycakes are bad enough.”

Ellen’s eyes went wide as a smile spread across her face. “He calls you Pattycakes?”

Patrick’s cheeks turned bright red. “Pete calls me a lot of things,” he said as he squeezed the bassist’s hand to show he wasn’t really annoyed. “Those are two of the more public appropriate nicknames.”

“I have a list,” Pete said, smiling still. “Whatever puts a smile on his face or annoys him the most.” There was a pause. “I remember I was using a lot of both back then, trying to get him to smile, to open up a little.” He looked at Patrick again, the look on his face turning serious. “We all knew something was wrong and we all wanted to help, but with Patrick not saying anything…we didn’t know how.”

Patrick shook his head. “You tried. I know all of you did, but nothing would’ve helped then,” he said. “I just…I felt so dirty, so disgusted with myself for what happened, for what I had done. I blamed myself for all of it and I didn’t see a way out.” He swallowed hard, trying desperately to keep his voice from shaking and his breathing calm and even. “And as the weeks went by things just got worse. I was barely eating; any kind of food would turn my stomach. I wasn’t sleeping; every time I tried to I’d hear my mother’s voice or I’d see my girlfriend’s face. Or worse, it would be Pete or Andy or Joe telling me that I was sick and dirty and to stay away.” A shudder ran through him and he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control of his emotions. “It got to the point where the only place I could forget everything and lose myself for a little while was on stage in front of the crowds, but even that…in the end, even that wasn’t enough.” He didn’t see Joe and Pete trade alarmed looks behind his back, didn’t see Andy gesturing out of camera shot to stop recording. His eyes were glazed over as he stared blankly in front of him, tears slowly sliding down his cheeks. “By the last night, I just...I wanted it to stop. All the pain and the guilt, everything I was feeling, all the heartache…I just…wanted it to be over. I wanted everything to be over.” He crumpled, a sob escaping him as Pete pulled him into his arms.

Ellen immediately stood up, an alarmed look on her face as he turned to the lead cameraman. “Cut it. Cut it now.” The camera’s red light went off as it pulled away, the entire studio going completely silent except for Patrick’s muffled crying.

“Shh, baby. Shh. It’s okay,” Pete whispered directly into his ear, pitching his voice low enough so the microphone he was wearing wouldn’t pick anything up. He took off Patrick’s fedora, tossing it onto the table before brushing his fingers through the singer’s bright hair. “It’s all right. I’m here. Joe’s here.” Joe was hugging Patrick from behind, his entire body pressed against the other man’s back as he tried to give what comfort he could. “Andy’s here. We’re all here with you. You’re safe, sweetheart. I promise you, you’re safe and we’re here with you and we love you. We love you so much, baby.” He tightened his hold, whispering “I love you” over and over again, praying that it would be enough.

Ellen stood out of the way, watching everything unfold with wide eyes. “God, I’m sorry,” she murmured to Andy. “I didn’t mean to upset him.”

Andy shook his head. “It wasn’t you. He gets anxiety attacks when he talks about everything. This isn’t the first time he’s broken down.” Picking up a bottle of water, Andy knelt down in front of the couch and put a hand on Patrick’s knee. “Trick, it’s okay,” he said softly, his voice adding to the words of comfort, of solace.  “We’re here. It’s okay.”

Finally, Patrick’s sobs tapered off into ragged breathing punctuated by sniffles. He drew away enough to rest his forehead against Pete’s, his fingers digging into the fabric of the bassist’s shirt. He could feel a solid weight against his back, someone’s hand rubbing his knee and Pete’s arms holding his close, sheltering him as the other man quietly whispered the same three words over and over again. “Pete?” he managed to get out, his voice thin and high.

“Right here,” Pete said immediately. “I’m right here. I’ve got you. Okay, baby?” He brushed a kiss against Patrick’s flushed cheek. “Deep breaths, okay? Take a deep breath for me.” He watched as Patrick took a deep shaky breath and then another. “That’s it. There you go. Just breathe for me.” He waited a moment while the singer’s breath steadied, brushing his hair back enough to give him another kiss against his temple. “Hey you.”

“Hey you,” Patrick managed to get out, a shaking hand wiping his eyes. “I…I’m okay.”

“Are you?” Joe asked, raising an eyebrow.

The singer forced himself to nod. “Think so.” He uncurled his fingers enough to let go of Pete’s shirt, putting a hand over Joe’s. “I’m okay.”

Joe gave his trembling hand a squeeze. “Okay, man. Just take it slow.” He looked over his shoulder at Pete. “You got him?”

“Yeah.” Joe carefully pulled away and Pete tightened his hold when he heard Patrick bite back a whimper. “It’s okay, sweetheart. He’s still here, Andy’s here and I’ve still got you,” he murmured. “We’re all still here.”

“Sorry,” Patrick breathed, fresh tears leaking out. “Sorry sorry sorry.”

“Shh.” Pete quieted him with another kiss. “Shh, baby. Nothing to be sorry for.”

“Basket case,” Patrick continued, not hearing Pete’s words. “Mess. Can’t…can’t even…” Another sob escaped him as he buried his face back into Pete’s shoulder. “God…Pete…”

“You’re not,” Pete insisted as he slowly began to rock back and forth. “You’re not any of that. You’re perfect, absolutely a thousand percent perfect.” He buried another kiss in his lover’s bright hair. “Shh, angel baby. Try to calm down for me, okay?”

Finally, Patrick pulled away enough to swipe at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Okay,” he breathed, not looking at Pete. “I’m okay, I think.”

“You will be,” Pete murmured back. “Just give it another minute.” Taking the bottle of water from Andy with a nod of thanks, he opened it and held it out. “Here. Take a sip.”

With Pete still holding the bottle, Patrick took a long drink, the coolness soothing his dry throat. “Better,” he said, gently pushing it away. “Men’s room?”

“You got it,” Pete said as he unclipped their microphones. He put an arm around Patrick’s shoulders as they got to their feet. He looked over at Ellen. “Men’s room?”

She pointed toward the right. “Just around the corner.”

“Thanks. We’ll be back.” The two of them walked offstage.

Joe and Andy watched them go, worried frowns on both of their faces. “Will he be all right?” Ellen asked, seeing how tense they both were.

Andy nodded. “Pete’ll take care of him. He knows what to do.”

Joe nodded as well. “Yeah. Trick’ll be fine once he calms down.”

The moment they were alone Pete pulled Patrick back into his arms and gave him a lingering kiss. “It’s okay, Pattycakes. I got you,” he murmured, scattering kisses over his lover’s damp cheeks. “I got you. I love you. I love you so much, baby.”

“Love you,” Patrick breathed, clinging to the bassist with everything he had. “Love you, too. So much. Just don’t…don’t let go.”

“Never, sweetheart. Never. You’re stuck with me forever.” Pete tightened his hold. “Tell me what you need? I’ll do anything.”

Patrick was quiet for a long moment before letting out a shaky little laugh. “You can’t. Not here, at least. But I love you for offering.”

“What? What is it?” Pete drew away enough to look at him. “I mean it, babe. Whatever you need. Just tell me.”

Patrick leaned his forehead against Pete’s, sighing as he closed his eyes. “I really wish you could make love to me right now,” he confessed. “For some reason, that always calms me down.”

“Yeah…I don’t think we can manage that, sweetheart,” Pete said reluctantly, planting another kiss close to Patrick’s ear. “We can’t be away for that long and I didn’t being any stuff with me.” Just then an idea sprung into his head. “Unless…”

Patrick looked up. “Unless what?”

Taking his hand, Pete pulled the singer into the handicapped stall, pushing Patrick against the closed door before giving him a hungry, tongue-tangling kiss. “When we get back to the hotel, I promise I’ll love you all night long,” he whispered as he palmed the bulge in Patrick’s jeans, grinning when the redhead shivered in his arms. “But for now, this is gonna have to do. Okay, baby?”

Patrick nodded. “Anything,” he whispered back, his breath quickening under Pete’s touch. “Just…Pete, please…”

“Shh.” Pete silenced him with another kiss. “You’re gonna have to be quiet. Otherwise we’re gonna have a very large, very unwanted audience.” Their eyes met. “Can you be quiet for me?” When Patrick nodded, he gave the redhead another kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you,” Patrick breathed, biting back a groan as Pete sank to his knees and undid his pants. “Oh, God…Pete…”

“I’ve got you,” Pete murmured as he pushed cloth aside and drew out Patrick’s erection. It was already leaking, pearly white fluid glistening in the light. He swept his tongue over the flared head, a thrill going through him as Patrick choked back another groan. “Easy, baby. It’s okay.” He reached up and grabbed one of Patrick’s hands, tangling their fingers together. “Just hang on to me, okay?” Pete waited for Patrick’s nod before sliding his mouth over the redhead’s cock, not stopping until it was nudging the back of this throat.

Patrick bit his lip, trying to keep as quiet as he possibly could as Pete sucked him down. His free hand tangled in Pete’s hair, fisting the dark strands as his lover’s head moved back and forth. “Please,” Patrick gasped. “Please, love…God, so good.” He whimpered as Pete caressed him with his tongue. “So good.”

Pete squeezed the fingers clutching his, every breathless moan and whispered word fueling his own desire. _Later,_ he told himself firmly, concentrating on Patrick. He could wait; after everything Patrick was the one who needed what Pete was giving right now.

He looked up, taking in Patrick’s flushed face and closed eyes. _Beautiful_ , he marveled, holding the singer’s hips steady so he wouldn’t thrust unexpectedly and choke him. _So fucking beautiful like this._ He couldn’t wait to get Patrick back to their hotel room so he could take him apart a piece at a time.

Patrick’s fingers tightened in his hair and a moment later he was coming, his head thrown back as he let out a shaky little sigh. Pete let out a muffled moan of his own as he swallowed down everything, not letting go until he had caught every single drop.

He slowly let Patrick’s cock slide out of his mouth, giving the tip a kiss before pulling his clothes back together. Getting to his feet, Pete drew Patrick back into his arms. “Beautiful baby,” he murmured, tightening his hold around the singer’s shaking frame. “Okay?”

Patrick let out a long, shuddering sigh. “Yeah.” He drew away enough to open his eyes and smile. “Thank you.”

_Definitely calmer_ , Pete thought, smiling as well. “Any time,” he purred, his smile turning into a grin when Patrick softly laughed. He gave Patrick another quick kiss before taking his hand. “Ready?”

Patrick squeezed his fingers and nodded. “Ready.”

_I’m so proud of you_ , Pete thought, his heart swelling. So much strength in such a compact body – Pete couldn’t help but wonder where he put it all. Giving him yet another brief kiss for good measure, Pete unlocked the door and led Patrick out of the stall.

Just as they were coming out, Joe popped his head into the bathroom. “They’re okay!” he yelled before turning back to the two of them, smirking. “You guys good?”

Pete glanced at Patrick, who was nodding even as he was ducking his head to unsuccessfully hide his blush. “Yeah,” he said, nodding as well. “Give us another minute?” Waving a hand, Joe disappeared back out the door.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Pete pulled out a prescription bottle and rattled it in front of Patrick’s nose. “Did you take one today? You should if you didn’t.” His tone dared Patrick to argue.

Patrick didn’t. Turning on the water, he swallowed a handful with the pill Pete shook out for him. “I honestly thought I’d be okay without them today,” he said, grimacing. “Shows how much I know.”

“You’re doing amazing,” Pete said as he leaned against the sink, watching Patrick wash his hands and face. “Do you still want to go on with this? We can call it a day if you want.”

Drying his hands with a paper towel, Patrick shook his head as he threw it into a nearby trash can. “I need to finish this, and I need to do it now,” he said, his voice soft. “If I stop now, I won’t start again. I know I won’t.” He met Pete’s dark eyes with his own. “You see, don’t you?”

For an answer, Pete pulled Patrick back into his arms and gave him a hard hug. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He kissed Patrick’s hair. “Love you, Pattycakes.”

“I love you, too. So much,” Patrick whispered as he returned the hug as hard as he could.

After a long moment, Pete drew away. “Ready to rejoin the world?” he asked gently.

Patrick nodded as he took Pete’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “As long as you’re with me.”

“Always.” Pete kissed his knuckles before leading him out of the bathroom and back toward the main stage.

They were met by Joe and Andy just out of sight of the audience. “You okay?” Joe asked as he gave Patrick a hard hug of his own.

“Yeah.” Patrick let himself relax for a moment in his friend’s embrace. “Sorry for the waterworks.”

“Shut up,” Joe said as he drew away enough to give Patrick a searching look. Apparently satisfied by what he saw, he pulled away and clapped the singer on the shoulder before stepping aside.

Andy was next, wrapping his tattooed arms around Patrick. He didn’t say a word, just held him tightly for a few moments before pulling away with a smile. Together, the four of them walked back onstage.

Ellen was standing by her usual chair, fidgeting nervously. A relieved look crossed her face when she saw Patrick. “Patrick! Oh, my God, I am so sorry,” she babbled anxiously. “I did not mean to upset you like that. I am so, so sorry.”

Smiling, Patrick took her wringing hands in his. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Really. I’m okay.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not okay,” she continued. “I never would have pushed so hard if I had known.”

“You didn’t. If anyone did, I pushed myself. I needed to, to get that out.” Patrick squeezed her hands. “I’m okay. Really.”

She looked at him, blinking. “Really?”

“Really really.” Patrick looked over at Pete, who smiled back at him. “Pete’s getting pretty good at pulling me back together when I fall apart.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, Ellen let his hands go enough to give him a quick hug. “Thank God! I was afraid I had really broken you!” She let out a nervous little laugh as she let him go. “Did you need to stop for today? We can if you want. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

Patrick shook his head. “I need to finish this,” he said, still smiling. “Are you okay with it if I do?”

“Of course!” Ellen exclaimed, brightening immediately. “But if you change your mind and want to call it a day or you need to stop again, just say the word.”

“I promise I will.” Patrick glanced at the three men behind him. “And they’ll make sure I will.”

“Damn straight,” Andy said before anyone else could and they all laughed.

They all sat back down, microphones clipped back on and Patrick’s fedora solidly on his head before Ellen gestured for the camera to start rolling again. She turned her attention to Pete. “Patrick mentioned earlier that he wouldn’t be here without the three of you,” she said. “Can you tell us what he meant by that?”

“We found him,” Pete said solemnly. He felt Patrick’s fingers entwine with his and he gave them a squeeze, grateful for the gesture. “When we got off stage that night, Patrick immediately went back to our tour bus. The rest of us got waylaid by fans and press. It was the last night of our tour, so backstage was a little more crowded than usual.”

“Was that unusual for Patrick to disappear like that after performing?” Ellen asked.

“Not really. He said he had a headache and he needed to rest his voice. He did that often enough so we didn’t question him.” He looked at Patrick and smiled. “And honestly? Even with how long we’ve been doing this and all we’ve been through? He still gets a little shy when you shove a microphone in his face.”

“You’re about the only one who doesn’t,” Joe cut in from the other side of Patrick, who had ducked his head to hide his flushed cheeks. The audience let out a brief spurt of laughter as Pete acknowledged the comment with a shrug and a wry little smile.

Pete ran his thumb over the fingers clutching his before going on. “So by the time we managed to pull ourselves away from everyone and head back to the bus, it had been at least ten, maybe fifteen minutes. I remember Joe saying something as we were walking back…” He looked at the guitarist. “What was it again?”

“Probably something about food,” Joe remarked. “We’re all usually starving after running around onstage like lunatics for two hours.”

“Yeah. But I wanted to check on Patrick first and make sure everything was okay,” Pete said as he turned back to Ellen.

“Why?” Ellen asked. “If he had done this before, what made this time different?”

“I just…I can’t really explain it. I just had a bad feeling about things,” Pete said. His ran his free hand through his dark hair, disheveling it even more. “He was quiet. I mean, Patrick’s usually pretty quiet, but this was different. This was a bad kind of quiet.” He shrugged. “I don’t really know how to explain it any other way.”

To everyone’s surprise, Ellen nodded in understanding. “Those kinds of quiet are bad,” she agreed. “I’ve been through a few of them myself.” She got back to the subject at hand. “So you went back to the bus…”

“And at first we thought he wasn’t there. We called, looked in his bunk and nothing. No Patrick.” Pete paused. “That’s when I found the note he had left on his pillow next to his glasses.”

“What did the note say?” Ellen asked softly.

Pete swallowed hard as Patrick squeezed his fingers. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.”

“That’s when I tried the bathroom door and found that it was locked,” Joe added.

The four men were quiet, each of them remembering that fateful moment. Finally, Ellen asked quietly, “What did you do?”

“I remember…I think I screamed Patrick’s name as I banged on the door. I was hoping I was wrong, that he’d answer me. When he didn’t, the three of us managed to break the door down.” Clinging to his lover’s hand, Pete took a deep breath and continued. “He…Patrick was sitting on the floor of the shower stall…and there was a knife by his leg, near his hand. His wrists…they were cut…and there was blood on his clothes and on the floor. Just…everywhere.” Pete shuddered, closing his eyes for a moment to banish the sight, the same scared, helpless feeling he had experienced that night threatening to overwhelm him. “So much blood…”

“And when you saw that?” Ellen prompted after a moment. “What did the three of you do?”

Joe spoke up. “I called 911 and told the security guard to keep the fans and the press back.”

Andy was next. “I tore a towel apart and wrapped it around Patrick’s wrists, put pressure on them to try and stop the bleeding.”

Pete was last, managing a shaky smile before going on. “And I basically panic.” He looked down at Patrick’s hand holding his before continuing. “I was kneeling in front of him, with his face in my hands talking to him, begging him to wake up. He was still breathing and everything, but he was cold. His face, his cheeks…he was pale…and so cold. And usually Patrick is never cold. There could be a blizzard blowing outside and he’ll just be wearing a t-shirt.” Pete’s eyes began to sting and he quickly blinked to keep the tears at bay. “The emergency room doc…after we brought him in…he told us we were lucky. If Patrick had cut just a little bit deeper, if we had been even ten minutes later getting back to the bus…we would have lost him.”

Andy put an arm around Pete’s shoulders as Patrick squeezed his fingers as hard as he could. The brief twinge of pain brought Pete back to the present and he gave the singer a grateful smile. “But we didn’t, thank God.”

“Did you know then, why he had tried?” Ellen asked softly. “Did you have any idea?”

Pete shook his head, for once at a loss for words. Andy spoke up instead. “We still had no idea. Like Joe said before, after the last break, Patrick kept to himself and we pretty much let him.”

Ellen turned her attention back to Patrick. “How long were you in the hospital?”

“A couple days,” Patrick said quietly. “They let me out pretty quick once they were sure there was no infection, that I had talked to someone and was on medication.” He paused. “We stayed at our hotel for another day or two after that and then Pete took me back to his place.” Patrick smiled. “I’ve been there ever since.”

Ellen looked surprised as she turned to Pete. “Patrick’s been staying with you all this time?” The bassist nodded. “Why?”

“Why not?” An edge suddenly entered Pete’s voice. “He’s one of my best friends and he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Of course I’m going to have him stay with me for as long as he damn well needs to.” He glared at the camera, hating it all of a sudden, hating everything about this. “If your best friend had done something like that, would you leave him alone? Especially if you had no idea why?”

“Pete,” Patrick said softly, squeezing his hand again in order to get his attention, trying to diffuse his rage before it turned into an explosion on national TV.

Pete’s shoulders slumped almost immediately, the anger draining out of him as fast as it had come. “Sorry,” he murmured, closing his eyes as he tried to banish the image of Patrick so cold and still lurking inside his head. “Sorry, Pattycakes.”

“I know why,” Patrick whispered. He put his free hand over Pete’s clutching fingers. “But it’s okay. I’m right here.”

“Thank God,” Pete murmured, leaning against him. He breathed in his lover’s scent, a mixture of Ivory soap, shampoo and just the faintest hint of something that was uniquely Patrick. “It’s just…it was the worst thing…and I don’t know what I would’ve done if you…if you had…” He shuddered and didn’t finish.

“I know,” Patrick said again, closing his own eyes for a moment. “I got you.”

The studio was completely silent as they leaned against each other, oblivious to everyone and everything around them. Finally, Pete let out a heaving sigh and forced himself to pull away. “Okay,” he said softly, more for Patrick’s benefit than anyone else. “I’m okay.”

Patrick nodded. “Want to stop?” Pete shook his head. “You sure? We can. What goes for me goes for you, too. Goes for all of us.”

Pete shook his head again and turned back to Ellen, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bite you head off.”

“And I didn’t mean to upset either of you with my questions again. Even?” Pete nodded. “Did you want to call it a day? The stuff this is bringing up…”

Pete cut her off with a shake of his head. “I need to finish this as much as Patrick does,” he said. “We can go on.”

Ellen nodded and immediately turned her attention back to Patrick. “Earlier you mentioned that you had been in a pretty dark place,” she said, her voice gentle. “Are you still there?”

Patrick smiled. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s become a little bit of a cliché, but it does get better. And it has, thanks to a lot of things.” He paused. “I’m on medication for anxiety and depression and it’s really helped. Well, for the most part.” He acknowledged his earlier breakdown with a shrug. “I’m seeing a therapist twice a week and she’s been absolutely amazing in helping me work out a lot of things that I’ve had problems with. It really has made a difference, having a neutral party to talk to, because sometimes she sees things I can’t because I’m too close to it all.”

Ellen nodded in understanding. “It helps you focus, talking to someone like that.”

Patrick nodded before looking first at Joe, then at Pete and Andy. “And these three guys…how do you thank someone for saving your life?” Joe’s arm went around his shoulder as Pete squeezed his hand and Andy reached around to put a hand on his knee. “They’ve done so much – from giving me a listening ear to a shoulder to cry on to a swift kick in the ass. Whatever I’ve needed, they’ve been there for me.” Patrick blinked, his eyes shining. “You can’t ask for better friends, better family.”

Ellen smiled. “You four really are that close? Family?”

Joe nodded, grinning. “Brothers from other mothers.”

Andy nodded as well. “Mine, too. They may drive me crazy – we all do that to each other at times – but I can’t imagine doing this without them.”

Pete didn’t say anything, which Ellen immediately picked up on. “And Pete?” she prompted, still smiling.

Patrick turned to look at Pete, who grinned back at him. “The minute Pete found out that I wasn’t going back to Chicago any time soon, the first thing he said was “Come stay with me. Stay as long as you need to.”” He paused, directing his next question to Pete. “How did you put it again?”

Pete’s smile softened. “A day, a week, a month, a year.”

Patrick nodded again before continuing. “He opened up his home to me with no questions, no pressure. You don’t know how much that meant to me after everything, having that safety net, that support.” Looking down at their clasped hands, Patrick made a decision. _Put up or shut up_ , he thought to himself. If he wasn’t sure about how he felt about Pete, about how Pete felt about him, then he never would be. “It meant the world. And it gave me this.”

Ellen suddenly looked confused. “This?”

Patrick turned back to Pete, a questioning look in his eyes. Pete grinned back at him. “I told you I was okay with it.”

“Just making sure,” Patrick said softly. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he leaned in and captured Pete’s lips in a gentle kiss.

Pete didn’t hear anything. He didn’t hear Ellen’s gasp or the cheers from the audience or the good-natured cat calls from Andy and Joe. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart and the soft sigh that escaped from Patrick, a sigh he echoed as the kiss lengthened, intensified and took his breath away.

Slowly, Patrick drew away, smiling at the dazed look on his lover’s face. He turned back to Ellen and held up the hand he was holding. “This,” he said, his smile turning into an incandescent grin.

Ellen stared, stunned. “Wow,” he finally said, her voice full of wonder and awe. “Just…wow. That was…Oh my God…wow.”

Pete recovered enough to grin. “You should have felt it from this end.”

“Wow,” Ellen repeated, eyes wide. Visibly shaking herself, she went back to her questioning. “So does that mean that the two of you are…you know…” She waved a hand at them both, her eyes bright. “Together?”

Both men nodded. “Yeah, we are,” Pete answered, still grinning.

Ellen grinned as well. “Well, that certainly explains why you’ve been holding hands this entire time!” Everyone, including the audience, laughed. “And just how long has it been for you? I think I would have remembered if you were a couple before this!”

“It’s only been a couple months,” Pete said as he ran his thumb over Patrick’s clutching fingers. “Since about…what…a week into your stay with me?” Patrick nodded, his cheeks still pink. “Patrick was keeping everything bottled up and saying everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t, so we got into a huge fight and things…well…things just kind of spilled out.”

Ellen’s eyes lit up as she looked at a still clearly embarrassed Patrick. “So Pete is the one who…”

“Didn’t think I could ever have, yeah,” Patrick finished, smiling.

She then turned to Pete. “And you?” Did you have feelings for him? Romantic, more-than-a-friend kind of feelings?”

“Oh, I’ve been in love with him forever. Ever since I heard him sing for the first time,” he said, smiling at Patrick. “Voice of an angel.” Patrick turned bright red and hid his face in Pete’s shoulder.

“And you never told him, not in all the years you two have known each other?” Pete shook his head. “Why?”

“A lot of reasons,” Pete answered, shrugging. “But some of the main ones are that I honestly thought he was straight. I’ve come onto him for years and gotten exactly nowhere.”

“And I never thought he was serious when he did, so I always pushed him away,” Patrick said in an attempt to defend himself. “When he was doing it years ago, it was playing up to the fans for the most part.”

Pete nodded. “Pretty much, yeah. Back then I spent just about all my time going from one outrageous thing to the next, so Patrick had twice as much reason to not take me seriously.” There was a pause. “And then the hiatus came around and we spent a good bit of four years not even speaking to each other.”

“But what about when you guys got back together?” Ellen asked, leaning forward a little. “Why didn’t you say something then?”

There was a pause, followed by a sigh. “I didn’t because I thought he was happy,” Pete said, his voice quiet. “We weren’t back together more than fifteen minutes before Patrick mentioned his girlfriend, and the look on his face…” He looked at the man sitting by his side. “I wasn’t going to do a damn thing to cause that look to go away.”

“His happiness being more important than yours?” Ellen asked, her voice gentle.

“Exactly.” Feeling Patrick squeeze his fingers, he squeezed back. “I had my best friend back after over four years without him and I damn sure didn’t want to lose him again, especially for a fantasy. So I put it away and tried not to think about it too much.” He smiled, shrugging again. “We were friends. That was enough.”

“And now?” Ellen prompted.

“Now…now we’re more than friends.” Pete’s smile turned into a grin. “And it’s better than I imagined it could be.”

Ellen turned to Patrick. “Has it been the same for you?”

“It’s been…amazing doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Patrick said quietly. “You have to understand, even with everything between us and being friends for so long…I honestly thought that Pete wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me if he ever found out.” He leaned against Pete, a relieved little smile on his face. “For the first time in my life I’ve never been so glad to have been proven wrong.”

“What about you two?” Ellen asked, indicating Andy and Joe with a wave of her hand.

“We couldn’t be happier,” Andy said, grinning. “It’s been a long time coming.”

“Definitely,” Joe said, grinning as well. “These two have been dancing around each other for years.” At Pete’s raised eyebrow, Joe turned stubborn. “Yes, years. Andy and I are relieved you two finally woke up and bought a clue, man. Seriously.” The studio audience once again burst out laughing.

“What about your families?” Ellen asked when the good-natured laughter died down. “Patrick, you told us about yours…but what about you, Pete?”

“Mine officially don’t know,” Pete answered. “But they’ve always pretty much guessed that I had an equal shot of falling in love with either a man or a woman. I’ve never really made a secret about that.” He paused. “And I know my mom would tell you that it was always going to be Patrick if I ever did decide to bat for the home team, so to speak. There’s never been anyone else when it comes to that. Not for me. Not ever.” He gave Patrick’s hand a squeeze and continued. “They’ve known him for years and he’s been an important part of my family for just as long. All three of them are.” Pete gestures to the two of them with a wave of his hand. “This? What Patrick and I have now? Kinda just makes things a little bit more official.”

“As for my mom, she’s coming around,” Patrick added, much to Ellen’s surprise. “She was mainly afraid that I would get hurt again. All the fighting me and Pete went through before the break, it was all still pretty fresh in her mind. But we’ve talked recently and she understands things a little better now.” There was a pause. “She wants me to be happy. That’s always been the main thing for her. And for me to be happy now, Pete needs to be a big part of my life. She didn’t get that before, but she does now. So things are better on that front.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ellen said, enthused.

Patrick nodded. “It’s going to take time. I wasn’t exactly tactful when I told her, so it was a pretty big shock. But we are speaking terms again and that’s the main thing.”

“She still doesn’t like me much, though,” Pete said ruefully.

Patrick turned a little to shoot the bassist a look. “She likes you.”

“Of course she does. Just not that much.” Patrick rolled his eyes and gave up.

“What about your ex?” Ellen asked. “Have you seen or spoken to her since all this began?”

“No.” Patrick shook his head. “She made it very clear that she never wanted to see or hear from me ever again, so I’ve done what I could to honor that request.” A sigh escaped Patrick. “I wish things hadn’t ended the way they did, that there was some way we could stay friends at least, but since there isn’t…” he shrugged. “I wish her nothing but the best and I hope she’s happy with the choice she made.” He looked at Pete and suddenly grinned. “I know I’m happy with mine.”

“And right there is proof positive that Patrick is a far better man than I will ever be,” Pete said seriously. “Because if I ever see her again, there’s a good chance I’ll forget to act like a gentleman.”

“Really?” Ellen looked at the grim expressions on all of their faces. “All three of you? Why?”

Without another word, Pete took the hand he was holding and held it out for the camera, wrist up. The pink scar crossing the veins was clearly visible.

Ellen winced before motioning to the cameraman to turn it off. “And I think after that we all need a breather,” she pronounced as she stood up. Unclipping her microphone, she walked offstage without another word.

The four men looked at each other. “Apology?” Pete guessed.

Andy answered him. “Might be a good idea if we ever want her to invite us back.” He got up and stretched. “Men’s room is down the hall?” Patrick nodded. “Be right back.” He headed in that direction.

Joe got up as well. “I think I’m gonna follow Hurley’s example.” He headed down the hall as well.

Once they were relatively alone Pete pressed himself against Patrick until they were touching from shoulder to ankle. “How’re you doing, babe?”

Patrick leaned his head against Pete’s. “Okay, I think,” he murmured. “Sorry I sprung the kiss on you.”

Pete chuckled. “I’m not. Always wanted to have the breath kissed out of me on national television.”

Patrick smiled. “Does it fit your definition of telling the world by standing on top of a building and yelling it into a megaphone?”

“Close enough.” He turned enough to plant a kiss right by Patrick’s ear. “Can’t wait to get you back to our hotel room.”

Patrick’s cheeks turned bright red. “I can’t, either.”

Just then Ellen came walking back on stage, her phone pressed against her ear. “No, everything’s fine. I just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all,” she said quietly as she stood by her chair. “I’m sorry I interrupted things.” She listened for a minute before smiling. “Okay, then. I’m not sorry. I’ll see you when I get home.” She paused, a soft smile crossing her face. “I love you, too.” She clicked it off a moment later, slipping it into her pocket as she sat back down again. “Sorry about that.”

“I think we should be apologizing to you,” Pete started.

Ellen cut him off with a wave of her hand. “No reason for you to. This interview seems to be affecting everyone.” She smiled at them both. “Seeing the two of you and hearing everything you’ve both gone through, I just needed to hear Portia’s voice for a few minutes.”

“I can understand that. It’s how I feel every time I hear Patrick sing,” Pete said as he grinned at Patrick, who once again hid his face in Pete’s shoulder.

“Shut up,” Patrick muttered, his voice muffled.

“Not a chance, Lunchbox.” Pete took Patrick’s hat off just long enough to kiss the top of his head. “And you’re so damn cute when you blush.”

“You’re impossible,” Patrick muttered as Joe and Andy came back onstage and sat down.

Joe made a show of rolling his eyes at them. “What’s Pete done now?”

“Just embarrassing him like usual.” Pete was grinning. “One of the few things I’m good at.”

“You’re good at a hell of a lot more than that,” Patrick contradicted as he drew away a little, his cheeks still red.

Joe held up his hands in mock surrender. “And I’m not touching that one.” They all laughed.

Ellen gestured to the cameraman and the little red light came on again. “So this may seem like a weird segue, but Patrick, you just got your first tattoo?”

Patrick nodded. “About three weeks ago on my way home from therapy.” There was a pause. “It…I can’t really explain it other than it felt like something I needed to do.”

“What is it? Can we see it?” Ellen asked, her eyes bright. “Is it some place where we _can_ see it? This is a family friendly show, you know!” The audience laughed as Patrick blushed and pushed up his sleeve. He held out his hand wrist up for the camera. A close up shot of the semi-colon tattoo flashed up on screen. “A semi-colon. Can you explain to everyone what it means for those who don’t know?”

“Sure.” Patrick let his hand fall back on his lap as he paused for a moment, trying to find the words. Just then he felt Pete squeeze his fingers and he let himself relax. _Whatever I need, he knows. How does he always know?_ He wondered for what had to be the millionth time. Pushing the thought aside for the time being, he started to talk.

“Project Semi-Colon was started by Amy Bleuel after the death of her father. It’s become a symbol for people fighting depression and other mental illnesses as well as for suicide prevention and awareness,” he explained. “Basically what it means…you know how a period ends a sentence. A semi-colon keeps the sentence going, keeps the thought going. It means that your story isn’t over yet.” He paused. “I was up late one night looking up stuff on the internet  – Pete was in Chicago and I couldn’t sleep – when I stumbled across her website at around three in the morning. I was up until well past dawn reading the testimonials and looking at everyone’s pictures.” He reached out and grabbed a bottle of water off the table in front of him, taking a long sip before continuing. “The next day, after I was done with therapy, I stopped by the tattoo parlor I pass on the way and got it done right then and there. Didn’t even take an hour.” He suddenly smiled. “Hurt a lot less than I thought it would, too.”

“No more tattoo virgin,” Joe said, bumping Patrick’s shoulder with his own. “Won’t be long before you’re inked up like the rest of us.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Patrick hedged, still smiling. “I think I need to get used to seeing this one on me first.” He turned to look at Pete. “And someone else does, too, I think.”

Ellen immediately latched onto the comment. “There’s a story there.”

“A little one,” Pete said, running his free hand through his hair. “I was away when Patrick got it done. When I came home and saw the bandage on his wrist…well…I kinda freaked out a little.” At Ellen’s puzzled frown, Pete elaborated. “I thought he had hurt himself again. Something bad had happened while I was gone and he had…you know…tried again.” The bassist shuddered. “It took a while for me to calm down.”

“I am sorry about that,” Patrick said softly. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I know you didn’t, babe. It’s okay.” Squeezing Patrick’s hand, Pete continued. “When I calmed down enough to listen to him, he told me about the blog and how much he had liked the idea. And I did, too.”

“Which led to what?” Ellen asked.

“A couple days later, I was checking my email when three pictures popped up.” Patrick indicated Joe, Andy and Pete with a wave of his hand. “They were of these three. They had all gone out and gotten the same tattoo.”

Ellen’s face lit up. “So you all have it? That’s just…that’s really awesome.” She leaned closer. “Can we see them?”

Joe held up his hand first. “Mine’s here, so everyone can see it when I play guitar.”

“Mine is here,” Andy said next, indicating the semi-colon under his ear. “I don’t have a lot of empty space left.” He waved a hand over his body to indicate his own numerous tattoos. “And I wanted it somewhere visible, so that’s why it’s there.”

Ellen turned to Pete. “And yours?” she prompted.

“It’s not out there like everyone else’s is,” Pete warned as he let go of Patrick’s hand long enough to unbutton his shirt, grinning at the cheers and wolf whistles coming from the audience. He held his shirt open enough so everyone could see the small semi-colon under his thorn necklace. “But here’s mine.”

Ellen understood immediately. “Over your heart,” she said and he nodded. “And from what I understand, it’s not just for Patrick. You’re a survivor, too.”

Pete nodded again as he rebuttoned his shirt. “I tried in 2005. Overdose.” He retook Patrick’s hand in his. “But it’s not just for me, either. All of us,” He encompassed the entire band with a wave of his free hand. “Have been in a dark place at one point or another in our lives. And there are times when we need the visible reminder that we don’t have to deal with things on our own. That the support system is there, even if we don’t have the strength to ask for help. We’re there for each other, no matter what.”

Ellen smiled. “Sounds like a good reason to get a tattoo for me.”

Joe suddenly grinned. “We always made a joke about it, getting a band tattoo if Patrick ever decided to bite the bullet and get inked,” he said. “And while it’s nothing like I thought we’d all get, it’s one of the ones that means the most.”

Ellen nodded in complete understanding. “You also had two links put up on the band’s website.”

Patrick nodded. “One is a list of just about every suicide hotline in the world that we could find. We wanted it out there for the exact reason Pete mentioned – sometimes you need a little help getting out of that dark place.” He paused. “So it’s there, just in case it’s ever needed. We’re hoping that it never is.”

“The other is a link to Project Semi-Colon,” Pete added.

“The two of you have also put up your stories on Project Semi-Colon’s website,” Ellen said. “Along with some pretty nice photos of all of you and your tattoos.” Pictures suddenly flashed on the screen in back of them – the band posing with their instruments first, then individual shots showing off their tattoos. The last one was of just Pete and Patrick, with the singer’s arms wrapped around the bassist’s neck as he stood behind him. Pete’s shirt was open enough to showcase his semi-colon and their hands were clasped in such a way as to show off Patrick’s.

“Beautiful photos,” Ellen commented.

“They did come out really nice, didn’t they?” Pete commented. “The project’s founder asked us to do it. She’s planning a book to benefit the project since it’s non-profit and she wanted a few kind of famous people sharing their stories among all the others.”

“It’s due out in a couple of months,” Joe added.

“And if any of you want more details about the book or about Project Semi-Colon in general, I’ve put a link up on my website,” Ellen said to the small audience, who clapped in response. “So…what’s next for Fall Out Boy?”

“More music, more touring,” Andy said, his voice quiet even as he smiled. “Always looking forward to that.”

Joe grinned again. “My wife is due with our first child soon,” he said. “So there’s a lot of sleepless nights for me on the horizon.”

“And you two?” Ellen prompted, looking at Pete and Patrick. “Wedding bells maybe?”

They stared at her, shocked looks on their faces. “Ah…that’s something we haven’t talked about,” Pete quickly said. “We’ll just have to see where things go.” He looked at Patrick. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Patrick agreed. He held up the hand he was holding. “This…for right now, it’s more than enough. More than I ever thought I’d have after everything that’s gone on.” He paused, looking at Pete. “Everything else…we’re just going to take it one day at a time.”

Nodding, Ellen smiled as she gestured for the camera to stop filming. “And that’s as good a place to wrap things up as any,” she said as she took off her microphone and stood up. “Thank you for coming on and sharing everything with us.”

After several more embraces and a good amount of time signing autographs for everyone in the small studio audience, Pete managed to take Patrick’s hand in his and drag him into a dimly lit corner backstage. “I am so fucking proud of you,” he said softly as he drew the singer into his arms. “You are amazing, did you know that?”

Patrick blushed. “I couldn’t have done it without you there next to me.” Cupping the back of Pete’s head with his hand, he pulled the bassist into a kiss.

Pete was deepening the kiss, about to slide his hands down to cup Patrick’s ass when he heard someone loudly clear their throat. They broke apart to see Andy and Joe standing close by. “So do you want us to drop you off at the hotel so you two can keep playing kissy face?” Joe asked with his hands folded across his chest. “Or are you interested in dinner first?”

They looked at each other. “Food?” Patrick asked, eyebrows raised.

“Definitely food. I didn’t eat all that much this morning because of all this and I sure as hell know you didn’t,” Pete reluctantly drew away. He brushed a finger across his lover’s cheek. “And you’re definitely gonna need your strength later. Just saying.”

To Pete’s unexpected delight, Patrick took his finger in his mouth, sucking on it briefly before giving it a nip. “So will you.”

                                                                        *****

The moment they got back to their hotel room and slammed the door shut, Pete had Patrick in his arms and was kissing the breath out of him. “You are a fucking tease,” he murmured in between kisses. “Do you know that?”

“You…God, Pete…you’re just as bad,” Patrick gasped as he slid his hands up Pete’s arms. He tilted his head back as Pete kissed his way down his neck. “The way you were licking your ice cream off the spoon? We’re lucky the restaurant didn’t ask us to leave for being obscene in public.”

“Rather lick you,” Pete murmured as he pulled Patrick’s shirt away enough to nip at his collarbone. “Fucking delicious.”

Patrick’s hands were busy stripping off Pete’s jacket, finally getting it off and dropping it to the floor. “God, yes,” he murmured as he fumbled with his shirt buttons. “Take me…mark me.”

“Yeah? Want me to leave a love bite right here?” Pete nuzzled Patrick’s ear. “Some place where everyone can see it and know exactly what you were doing and with who?”

Patrick shivered. “Maybe…maybe not that far,” he said before pulling Pete into another kiss. “Somewhere else? Where only you and I can see it?”

“Mmm…like that idea even better,” Pete murmured. “I’ll pick a place while I’m kissing you all over.” Patrick’s hat landed near Pete’s jacket. “Bed? Or shower first? Or I can just do you right here against the door.”

“God…anything.” Patrick began running a hand through Pete’s dark hair, drawing a satisfied little hum out of the other man. “I just want you to fuck me until I can’t see straight.”

“Anything you want,” Pete promised. “And then you can do me until I have a hard time sitting down tomorrow.” He slid a hand under Patrick’s shirt, caressing wherever he could reach. “Love feeling you in me, driving me crazy in the best way.”

Grasping his shoulders, Patrick began pushing him toward the bed. “Love you,” he breathed in between kisses. “Love you so much. Want you so bad. Pete…”

“Patrick…love you, baby,” Pete breathed into his ear. “Love you so damn much. Can’t get enough of you.”

They landed on the bed, still kissing as eager hands pulled at their clothes. “Wait, Trick…hang on a sec.” Pete drew away enough to cup the singer’s face in his hands. “This’ll be a hell of a lot easier once we’re both naked.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Patrick said as he wrestled with Pete’s belt. Finally undoing the bassist’s jeans, he yanked both them and Pete’s underwear down enough to free his erection. “About damn time. I don’t think it’s ever been this hard to get your fucking pants off.”

Pete was still in the middle of thinking up a suitable retort when Patrick ducked his head down and took him down his throat in one swift movement. “Oh…fuck, Patrick,” he gasped, lifting his head up enough to watch his cock slide in and out of Patrick’s mouth. “Good…that feels so good, baby…fucking amazing what you can do with that mouth of yours.” His hands dug into the bedcovers as Patrick held him down, licking every inch of him before taking him back down his throat. “Jesus…Patrick!”

Patrick sucked harder, sliding his hands under Pete to cup his ass as he kept going. His own cock ached in the confines of his jeans and he rubbed himself against the bed in a futile effort to find some relief. Finally, he gave up and concentrated on Pete’s dick in his mouth and the steady trickle of come leaking out of it; he wanted the salty tang of it flooding his mouth, he wanted Pete’s orgasm overwhelming him, taking his breath away like nothing else could.

Shaking fingers brushed his face before moving through his hair. “Baby…Patrick…” Pete managed to get out in between gasps. “Please, baby…I’m gonna…Oh, fuck I’m gonna…” He didn’t finish; instead Pete’s head fell back onto the bed and he let out a shaky moan as he came.

Patrick swallowed eagerly, making sure to catch every bit before letting Pete slip out of his mouth. He gave the tip of Pete’s cock before sliding up enough to kiss the center of his lover’s bat heart tattoo. “Mmm…love you,” he murmured as he laid his head on Pete’s stomach, letting himself relax for a moment in spite of his arousal. “Love you so much, Pete.”

“God,” Pete managed to get out as he stared up at the ceiling, his hand still in Patrick’s hair. “Fuck.”

Patrick looked up, a smug smile on his face. A speechless Pete Wentz was a rare sight to behold. “You okay up there?”

“Fuck,” Pete repeated, a shudder ran through him. “Jesus Christ, Patrick. That was…God, that was…” He didn’t finish.

Patrick leaned up further to kiss his parted lips. “Okay?”

Pete’s dark eyes finally focused, meeting Patrick’s hazel ones. “Fucking incredible,” he corrected, sighing. “Not just okay. I think you did suck my brains out of my dick that time.”

Patrick leaned over to give him another, deeper kiss. “Wanted a little more dessert,” he said, grinning. “You’re delicious.”

Pete let out a weak chuckle as returned the kiss. “You could’ve at least let me take my shoes off.”

“Not a chance. You have a tendency to overwhelm me. Plus you were taking too long.” He looked down; Pete’s pants and underwear were still down around his ankles and his shirt was pushed up to his armpits, leaving him exposed from his chest to just below his knees. “Can help you with them now if you want.”

“I think you might have to. I’m not sure I can move after that.” He brushed his fingers over Patrick’s face. “Hurricane Patrick.”

Patrick’s cheeks turned red. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said as he sat up, bringing Pete with him.

“I sure as hell would. That was like being hit by a tornado.” Unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugged it off and tossed it to the floor. “Might take a little bit to give back as good as I got, but I damn well will try.”

Patrick’s shirt landed nearby. “I thought you wanted me inside you?” he reminded, a teasing little smile on his face. He palmed his erection through his jeans, sighing. “You said you wanted me to fuck you hard enough so you feel it tomorrow. Did you change your mind?”

“Fuck, no,” Pete said, shaking his head to clear it fully before drawing Patrick close. “But I thought you wanted some, too? Something about doing you until you couldn’t see straight?”

Kicking off his shoes and socks, Patrick took off Pete’s as well, enabling the bassist to wiggle out of the rest of his clothes. “Maybe in the morning? We could consider it breakfast.”

“I like that kind of breakfast.” Pete’s hands went back around Patrick’s waist. “Although I’m also not sure I can wait until morning to get my hands on you.”

Putting his hands over Pete’s, Patrick moved them to his ass. “Who said you had to? I like your hands on me.” He sighed as Pete’s fingers dug into his ass cheeks. “God, yes….just like that.”

Keeping one hand on Patrick’s ass, Pete moved the other to his zipper, rubbing his erection through the heavy fabric. “I think it’s about time we got these off you,” he said as he unzipped his jeans and reached inside. He was rewarded with a long, loud groan. “That’s it…let me hear that gorgeous voice of yours.”

“Don’t stop,” Patrick begged, moving his hips against Pete’s caressing hand. “Please don’t stop.” He leaned his forehead against Pete’s shoulder, whimpering as the bassist took his cock out of his pants and began jerking him off. “Oh, God…that’s it. That’s good.”

“Like that, sweetheart?” Pete murmured into his ear. “You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel you are. Let me make you come like this and take the edge off and then I’ll do anything you want.” He kissed Patrick’s temple as he moved his hand just a little faster. “That’s it, baby. I got you. Let it go.”

A moment later, Patrick’s body jerked hard in his arms and he let out a keening little cry as he came all over Pete’s fingers. Pete held him close, whispering in his ear as the singer’s body shook, telling him how beautiful he was, how amazing he looked and over and over again how much he was loved.

Finally, Patrick was still, sagging against Pete as he tried to catch his breath. “God,” he muttered, blinking at Pete. “I didn’t…that was…fuck.”

“Yeah, it was,” Pete replied, grinning. He kissed Patrick’s cheek. “I love watching you come like that. You’re fucking beautiful.”

“And I love what you can do with your hands.” Taking Pete’s come slick hand in his, he began sucking his fingers clean. “Hmm…not too bad. I think I like the way you taste better, though.”

Pete watched as Patrick’s tongue swirled around his fingers, his eyes going wide as his breath caught in his throat. “Jesus fuck,” He muttered as his dick twitched in response. “You’re just…c’mere.” He pulled Patrick into a tongue-tangling kiss. “God, you are fucking amazing. You gotta let me do you right the fuck now. Or you fuck me. Whatever way you want.”

“Want you any way I can get you,” Patrick breathed as he reached toward the nightstand. “Lube?”

Instead, Pete reached underneath one of the pillows and pulled out the familiar tube. “Easier access,” he explained at Patrick’s raised eyebrow.

Patrick literally snatched it out of Pete’s fingers. “You’re brilliant,” he said as he coated his fingers and caressed Pete’s cock to full hardness. He then reached between his legs and worked two fingers inside himself, biting his lip as he did so. “Oh, God…”

“Let me,” Pete started, reaching for him. He stopped when Patrick shook his head. “No?”

“You use your fingers and I’ll end up losing it again,” Patrick said, smiling. “And I’d rather do that with your dick in me.”

“Then you’d better move fast, babe,” Pete warned as he laid back against the pillows, his voice shaking a little. “Because I honestly don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last here.”

Withdrawing his fingers, Patrick straddled his partner, letting the tip of Pete’s cock nudge him between his legs as he leaned down for another hungry kiss. “Love you.”

Pete’s hands went around Patrick’s waist, holding him steady. “Love you.” Both men groaned in unison as Patrick slowly lowered himself down on Pete’s cock, not stopping until he was all the way in.

They paused for a moment, arms wrapped around each other, hearts beating wildly. Patrick let out a long, shuddering sigh. “Jesus, Pete. You’re so…it’s so…” He didn’t finish.

He didn’t have to. “I know. So are you,” Pete said, brushing a hand through Patrick’s hair as he held him steady with his other hand as the singer began to rock. “That’s it, baby. God, you look so hot doing that.”

Patrick gasped, his eyes going wide. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last,” he managed to get out, clutching Pete’s shoulders as he moved his hips a little faster. “I can’t…”

“Then we’ll just start all over again,” Pete reassured him, grinning when Patrick moaned in response. “Feel good? You gonna come all over me? Fuck knows I want you to.” He began thrusting upward in time with Patrick’s hips, his grin getting even wider when Patrick’s cries picked up in volume. “Like that, baby? There?”

“Yes, right…right there,” Patrick gasped, his eyes going wide. “Please…love you.” His body jerked hard in Pete’s arms and a moment later he was coming, spurting all over his lover’s belly as he let out another inarticulate cry.

“Love you,” Pete managed to get out before thrusting into Patrick one more time. His own climax overtook him in a sudden, heated rush, his cry echoing Patrick’s.

They went limp against each other, Patrick burying his face in the side of Pete’s sweaty neck as the bassist slowly slid his arms around him. A whimper escaped him as Pete slipped out. “No…don’t go.”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here.” Pete smoothed back Patrick’s disheveled hair as he closed his eyes, letting himself drift. “I got you. I won’t let go.”

Upon feeling another kiss being pressed against the hollow of his throat, Pete stirred enough to open his eyes a little. “Hey you,” he said softly, giving Patrick a lazy little smile.

“Hey you.” Patrick leaned up for another kiss, sighing when Pete finally drew away. “God, I needed that.”

“Always happy to be of service, babe. And I did, too.” Pete heaved a sigh of his own. “Although right now? I don’t think I can fucking move.” He closed his eyes again.

“Oh, no you don’t. Come on.” Feeling movement, he opened his eyes to see a very naked Patrick standing by the bed. “Shower. Then you can fall asleep.”

Reaching up to grasp Patrick’s hand, Pete twined their fingers together. “And if a shower wakes me up enough for round two?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Then you definitely won’t be sitting down any time tomorrow,” Patrick grinned as he gave the hand in his a tug. “Come on, love. We’ll clean up so we can get dirty again.”

Pete considered the offer for all of a moment. “Lead the way.” He got up and followed Patrick into the bathroom.


	6. Chapter 6

A few days later, Pete had just finished feeding Hemmy and was in the middle of patting the bulldog on the head when his phone buzzed in his pocket. _Early for anyone to be calling,_ he thought as he glanced at the clock. It was just past ten. _Early by Patrick standards, at least._ He drew it out, not recognizing the number blinking on the screen. Shrugging, he hit the green button. “Hello. This is Pete.” Silence. “Hello?” He was just about to hang up when the last voice he ever thought he’d hear again spoke.

“Hello, Pete,” she said. “It’s Elisa.”

Pete froze. “You’ve got some fucking nerve,” he finally snarled, his temper going white hot almost immediately.

There was a pause. “I suppose I deserve that.”

_You deserve a hell of a lot more than that_ , Pete thought, wishing that he could reach through the phone and wring her neck with his bare hands. “What do you want?”

“I’d like to speak to Patrick,” she said. “I know he’s staying with you now. Is he there?”

“No,” Pete said through gritted teeth. “No fucking way.”

“No, he isn’t there?” Elisa asked, sounding amused. “Or no, you won’t let me speak to him?”

“You’re not getting anywhere near him after the shit you put him through,” Pete answered.

“And what about what he put me through the entire time we were together? You’re only hearing one side of the story.” Before Pete could come up with a retort to that, however, Elisa continued. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Please get Patrick on the phone.”

“What part of fucking no didn’t you get? You’re not talking to him. Not if I have anything to say about it,” Pete shot back, clenching his free hand so hard that his knuckles were turning white.

“But you don’t, do you?” The smugness was obvious in Elisa’s voice. “Whatever the two of you are now, you know how he gets when anyone tries to speak for him. It’s one of the few things he can’t stand from anyone.” There was a pause. “Do you really want to make him that angry?”

_I’d rather have him angry with me than upset_ , Pete mused, biting his tongue before saying it out loud. Because the hell of it was, she was right. He still remembered the one time Patrick had bitten his head off for assuming how he felt about something and that had been close to ten years ago.

_I don’t want to fucking do this_ , Pete thought as he rubbed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. “Give me one good reason I don’t hang up on you right now.”

“If you do, I’ll keep calling back until I talk to him,” she said “And when I do, I’ll tell him it was you who kept me away. He won’t like that at all. You know he won’t.”

He could almost see the smirk on her face. _Was she always so insufferable?_ he wondered before answering. “Fine. I’ll ask if he wants to talk to you.”

“He will.”

Pete’s frown turned into a scowl. “You sound pretty fucking sure of yourself, lady.”

“Of course I am. It’s Patrick, after all. If there’s one thing he is, it’s predictable.” She paused. “Go on and ask him. I’ll wait.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“He will.” There was another pause. “But if he chooses not to right now, tell him to pick a time and place and I’ll meet with him. I realize I sprung this on him, after all. I’m willing to be patient.”

“How considerate of you.” Pete’s voice dripped sarcasm. “And if he wants you to go back to the hell you crawled out of?”

“Then he can tell me that himself,” she said, her tone indicating that what she was telling him was her final decision on the matter. “Go and ask, Pete. I’ll wait.”

He resisted the urge to throw his phone at the wall. “And if he asks what you want?”

“That’s between me and Patrick,” she replied. To his immense satisfaction she was beginning to sound annoyed. “And if you’re finally done playing twenty questions, I would appreciate it if you would get Patrick.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Pete asked. “The last time you had anything to do with Patrick you threatened him with a restraining order.”

“Oh. That.” Pete gritted his teeth at her nonchalant tone. “I’m the one asking to talk to him, so I don’t think I could do anything like that even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.” She paused again. “You have my word I won’t do anything like that to him. I just want to talk.”

_And we both fucking know how good your word is_ , Pete thought. What he wanted to do was call Elisa every four letter name he could think of and scream at her until he was hoarse. “Fine,” he said instead, carefully putting the phone down on the counter before going to find Patrick.

He found the singer in the library emptying another box of books that had come from Chicago. They had finally decided to let a moving company take care of emptying Patrick’s storage unit and shipping his boxes to Pete’s house in LA. It had cost the singer a ridiculous amount of money, but it had been a price he had been willing to pay since the only other solution had involved both of them going out there and then driving back. “Hey you,” he said as he paused at the doorway, trying to keep what he was feeling off of his face.

“Hey you.” Patrick looked up and frowned. “What’s wrong? You look ready to murder someone.”

_So much for that_ , Pete thought as he stepped in. “Right now, I really wish I could,” he replied truthfully, taking in how happy and content Patrick looked. That look would be gone the moment he opened his mouth, he thought, and God only knew when he would see it again.

“Pete?” Patrick’s voice was soft as he put the books he was holding back in their box. “What is it?”

Sighing, Pete ran a hand through his hair. _No choice_ , he thought, grimacing as he knelt in front of the other man. “Elisa is on the phone,” he said, finally deciding to be blunt. “She wants to talk to you.”

Patrick suddenly went white. “What?” he finally managed to get out, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Elisa. She’s on the phone,” Pete repeated. He slowly reached out and took Patrick’s hands in his. “She wants to talk to you.”

Silence. Finally, Patrick said, “That’s…what’s what I thought you said.” He screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head in denial. “Oh, God.”

An ache filled Pete’s heart upon hearing the broken note in his lover’s voice and he immediately pulled Patrick into his arms. “I got you,” he whispered as Patrick began to shake. “I got you, sweetheart. It’s okay. I won’t let her fucking near you.”

“Why?” Patrick asked, the one word coming out in a sob. “After all this time…after everything…why?”

“I don’t know, baby.” Pete laid his cheek against Patrick’s red hair, tightening his hold. “I really don’t know. All she said was that she wanted to talk to you. She wouldn’t tell me why.”

They clung to each other for several more moments before Pete drew away enough to kiss Patrick’s pale cheek. “I really hate to ask you this, but what do you want me to do?” he asked. “You want me to tell her to go fuck herself on a sharp object sideways, I will. I got no problem with that.”

Patrick took a deep, shuddering breath. “She’s waiting on the phone?” Pete nodded. “I…I don’t want to talk to her. Not right now.” He shook his head again. “I can’t.”

“You don’t have to talk to her at all,” Pete said, his voice hard. “You know that, right? You don’t owe her a fucking thing.”

“I know,” Patrick said softly. “But if I don’t, she’ll just keep calling. We won’t get a moment’s peace.” He ran a hand over his face. “Fuck…after all this time, why can’t she just leave me the fuck alone?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Pete said again, the helpless feeling crawling back over him. “I can tell her that if you want. To leave you alone.”

After a long moment, Patrick shook his head yet again. “She won’t. Not until she has her say. She told you as much, didn’t she?”

Pete let out a resigned sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah.”

“Then I will,” Patrick said, swallowing hard. “But not now. And not out in public. If she wants to meet somewhere so we can talk, that’s fine, but nowhere where she can cause a scene.” He rested his forehead against Pete’s. “Some place safe.”

“You’d be safe here,” Pete said softly.

“No. Not here, either.” Patrick’s voice was firm. “Some place safe for both of us. I don’t want her trying anything with you. And she would. The first chance she got, she would and she’d do it with a smile on her face.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She hates you that much.”

_At this point, the feeling’s pretty mutual_ , Pete thought, biting his lip just in time. He wasn’t going to upset Patrick any more than he already was. “Okay, baby. You know her better than anyone.” He paused. “So…tell her to call back in a couple days? Give us time to plan something?” Patrick nodded and Pete kissed his forehead. “Okay. I’ll tell her to back off until the end of the week. Sure you don’t want me to tell her to go fuck off instead?”

Smiling wanly, Patrick shook his head. “Not just yet,” he said, his voice still trembling a little. “Maybe later. After it’s all over.”

“Just say the word. I’m looking forward to screaming at her.” He gave Patrick another kiss before getting to his feet. “I’ll be right back, okay? Promise. Right back.” He paused at the door. “I love you.”

Patrick looked up, his smile wavering a little but still there. “I love you, too.”

Pete headed back to the kitchen, his anger returning with every step he took. “Fucking cunt bitch,” he muttered as he walked. “Dicking with Patrick like that. God help you if I ever fucking see you again.” Picking up his phone, he took a deep breath. “Elisa,” he said, hoping for a moment that she had gotten tired of waiting and hung up.

No such luck. “Pete.” There was a pause. “Well?”

“He’s not talking to you today,” he said, biting back the curses he really wanted to say. “Call back at the end of the week and we’ll arrange something.”

“I’m not surprised actually. I apologize if I upset him,” she said, sounding anything but sorry.

_Fucking bitch_ , Pete thought for what had to be the thousandth time. _Bullshit you’re sorry. You’re loving what you’re doing to him._ “And if you’re going to put him through all this, we’re doing it our way. We decide when and where. Got it?”

“Of course. I didn’t expect it any other way,” she said calmly. “And I have a stipulation of my own.” There was a pause. “I talk to him alone. You’re not to be in the room.”

_There’s the harpy I know_ , Pete thought as he caught the cold edge of Elisa’s voice. _How in the ever loving fuck did he manage to stay with her for so long?_ “Fine. Just leave him alone until then.” He didn’t wait to hear her answer before hanging up, dropping his phone onto the kitchen counter with a clatter. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms around himself as he swallowed down his rage, wishing he could just forget everything that had just happened and whisk Patrick off somewhere safe.

_He’s safe with me_ , he finally decided, straightening. _I’ll make damn sure he is if it’s the last thing I do_. With that thought in his head, he headed back to Patrick.

Only Patrick wasn’t where Pete had left him. He stood in the library’s doorway for a moment, staring at the abandoned boxes of books, his mind racing. _Not here, not in the bathroom, he didn’t follow me downstairs. Where…_ He stopped; he knew where.

He found Patrick in the bedroom they shared; he was curled up on the bed, his bare feet tucked under the blanket’s edge as he stared blankly at the wall. Pete’s heart ached at the sight; he hadn’t seen the singer like this in a while. “Hey you,” he said softly.

“Hey you,” Patrick said automatically, his voice soft and sad. “She hang up?”

“Yeah.” Going over to the bed, Pete sat down on the edge. “Want some company? Or do you want to be alone for a while?” He didn’t want to leave; Elisa’s call had brought every fear he had about Patrick screaming back to the surface. But if Patrick asked, he would.

Reaching behind him, Patrick wiggled his fingers. “Don’t go,” he whispered. “Please don’t go.”

“Never,” Pete promised as he kicked off his shoes and socks. Taking Patrick’s hand, Pete let himself be pulled onto the bed, not stopping until he was lying down and pressed against his lover’s back. He slid his arm around the singer’s waist, not letting go of his grasping fingers as he pulled him closer. “Like this?”

“Yeah.” Patrick closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as he tried to stop shaking. He wasn’t entirely successful.

“Do you need anything?” Pete asked softly, kissing Patrick’s hair.

Patrick shook his head. “Right now, all I want is you.”

“You got me,” Pete whispered into his ear. “You always got me.”

“I know.” A soft sigh escaped him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” They both fell silent and when Patrick turned to bury his face in the bassist’s broad shoulder, all Pete could do wrap his arms around him even tighter.

                                                                        *****

Dr. Anne’s eyes went wide when she saw the two men huddled together on the waiting room sofa. “Well, I didn’t expect both of you today,” she said, her surprise obvious in her voice. “Pete, are you just here for moral support or did you feel the need for an extra session?”

“Neither,” Pete said shortly. “We have a problem.”

One look at Patrick’s pale, drawn face and the way Pete was hunched protectively over him and Dr. Anne stepped aside. “Come on in, both of you,” she said, ushering them with a wave of her hand.

Once she had them settled on the love seat, she pulled up a chair and sat down in front of them. “What happened?” she asked, getting to the point.

“Elisa called yesterday,” Pete said bluntly. He gazed at Patrick, a worried frown on his face as he rubbed the singer’s back. “He’s been freaked out ever since. Didn’t eat this morning or yesterday, barely slept last night.” He shook his head, the sick, helpless feeling clawing at his throat. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Let me try.” Reaching out, she grasped Patrick’s limp hands. “Patrick.”

Visibly starting, Patrick looked up and blinked. “Dr. Anne?”

She smiled. “Do you know where you are?”

He looked around, relaxing a little at the familiar surroundings. “Your office.” There was a pause. “Pete?”

“Right here,” Pete said softly, kissing his cheek. “You back with us?”

The singer managed a shaky nod. “Think so.” He ducked his head in an effort to hide his burning cheeks. “Sorry.”

“No need to be,” Dr. Anne said gently as she let go of his hands. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“I was in the library sorting through my books when Pete came in and said Elisa was on the phone,” he said, his voice shaking a little. “She…she wanted to talk to me for some reason. She wouldn’t say why.”

“Did you talk to her?”

Patrick shook his head. “I got…I was too upset to. I couldn’t.” He wrapped his arms around himself. “I didn’t want her to know how badly she got to me.”

“Which she did anyway, the bitch,” Pete growled. “I told her to call back later in the week and we’d arrange something.”

Dr. Anne nodded. “Do you want to talk to her?” she asked Patrick.

“No,” he said, shaking his head again. “But I think…I think I’m going to have to. She won’t…she’s not going to leave us alone until I do.” He heaved a sigh. “I just wish I knew what she wants.”

“Do you have any kind of unfinished business with her?” Dr. Anne asked. “Some of her personal things, maybe?”

“She took all that with her,” Patrick said, shaking his head. “Except for anything I ever gave her. That’s all in a box at Pete’s. I still haven’t found it yet.” He shrugged. “If she had wanted any of that, she could have just told me. Or Pete. So I don’t think that’s it.”

“And if she wants you back?”

“No,” Patrick said immediately. “Fuck, no. Not after all this. Not after everything we’ve been through.” He turned toward Pete, reaching for him with shaking hands. “I love you. I’m not leaving you. Not for anything and sure as hell not for her.”

“I know,” Pete said, a smile on his face as he took Patrick’s hands in his and kissed his fingers. “I love you, too. And the only way that bitch is getting her hands on you is over my dead body.”

“Let’s hope that things don’t get that extreme,” Dr. Anne said with a smile of her own. She leaned forward in her chair. “So you told her to call back?”

“Yeah. That we’d let her know when and where she could talk to him,” Pete said, a stubborn set to his jaw. “And if she wanted to do it so badly she’d have to do it on our terms.”

She nodded in approval. “Have the two of you decided what those terms are?”

They looked at each other. “Kind of but not really,” Pete finally said. “She made it clear that she doesn’t want me in the room with them, but I want to be in shouting distance at least.” He paused. “I offered my house…”

Dr. Anne shook her head, frowning a little. “Not a good idea. She could easily accuse you of anything and you would have no defense.”

“That’s what I told him,” Patrick said, an anxious look on his own face. “And she hates him enough to try anything.” He paused, still clutching Pete’s hand. “And I don’t want to do this in a public place, either. There’s too much of a chance of someone from the tabs seeing or hearing something we don’t want plastered everywhere.” He managed a wavering smile. “Or of me falling apart.”

Reaching over, Dr. Anne patted Patrick’s knee. “I don’t think you will, not in front of her. You’re stronger than you think, Patrick.” She paused, thinking for a moment. “May I make a suggestion?”

Both men looked at each other before shrugging. “You haven’t steered us wrong yet, Doc,” Pete said. “Go for it.”

“Meet her here.” At their wide-eyed surprise, she elaborated. “I have another perfectly good office further down the hall gathering dust bunnies. This is a safe place, neutral ground and with no prying eyes. You’re comfortable here and that comfort will give you the confidence you need.” She smiled. “And Lindsay has 911 on speed dial.”

“And I will be right outside that door,” Pete said seriously. “If she tries anything or steps out of line in any way, all you have to do is yell and I will fuck her shit up so fast that she won’t know what hit her.”

For the first time in over a day, Patrick felt himself relax. Closing his eyes for a moment, he leaned against Pete, taking comfort in the other man’s embrace. “That…that sounds like a good idea,” he said, a grateful look appearing on his face as he looked up. “Let’s do it. And as soon as we can.”

“Amen,” Pete muttered, kissing the top of Patrick’s head. “The sooner that bitch is out of our lives, the better off we’ll be.”

                                                                        *****

The next day, Pete found Patrick on the floor of the library, staring blankly at a very large box. “Are you still unpacking books? Between you and me we’re going to have the best library in LA,” he teased. Then he took a closer look at Patrick and his smile disappeared. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Remember the box of Elisa’s things that I mentioned to Dr. Anne yesterday?” When Pete nodded he gestured to the box in front of him. “I found it. It was hiding under all the books.”

Pete sat down next to him and slid an arm around his shoulder. “Second thoughts?” he asked quietly.

“No. Not about you,” Patrick said quickly, his voice firm. Reaching up, he grasped Pete’s hand, pulling it tighter around him. “I was just looking at everything and thinking. And it occurred to me that I don’t think I saw her wear any of it. Or put it out. Or anything.”

Pete didn’t say anything for a long moment. Instead, he squeezed Patrick’s fingers and gently kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured even as he inwardly cursed Elisa in his head.

“Nothing for you to be sorry for,” Patrick murmured as he leaned his head against Pete’s shoulder. “You know what I don’t get? If she didn’t like any of it, then why didn’t she just tell me? I would’ve understood that.”

Pete shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t want to hurt your feelings?” he guessed.

“Maybe.” Patrick didn’t sound convinced.

“You know I still have a box of Ashlee’s stuff in the very back of my bedroom closet ?” Pete commented after a moment. “After she moved out of the monstrosity, I found all this random stuff all over the house. One of her coffee cups, odd socks, her spare hairbrush…all sorts of things. Never did have the heart to throw any of it away.”

“Do you still love her?” Patrick asked softly.

“Not like I did. I still care about her, but we’re better friends than we ever were married.” He paused. “The main thing? She’s happier now and so am I.”

“I am, too,” Patrick said quietly. “I never thought it could be this good. You know?”

“Yeah. Exactly.” Pete drew Patrick into a kiss.

Patrick let out a sigh as Pete slowly drew away. “Mmm. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Pete said, holding him close. He nudged the box with a socked foot. “What did you want to do with this?”

“I’ll take suggestions from the floor,” Patrick said, shrugging. “All I know is that I don’t want to keep any of it.”

“Can understand that.” Pete reached out. “Can I look?”

“Sure. There’s nothing unmentionable in there unless you’re counting the lingerie.” Patrick indicated the slender white box sitting near the top with a nod.

Taking it out, Pete opened it to reveal several pairs of lace and silk panties. He took one look at the embossed label on the box and let out a low whistle. “La Perla? You have got some fucking nice taste, baby.”

“Present for her last birthday, I think. I saw them on the website and couldn’t help wonder how they’d look on. Still wondering, actually.” At Pete’s confused look, Patrick elaborated. “She never wore them. I don’t know why.”

Pete made a face. “What woman doesn’t like fancy underwear?” he wondered as he looked in the box again. There were three pairs of briefs – white with silver edged lace, black with white lace and bright red with white lace. They were simple and elegant with just a touch of flirty playfulness. _Patrick all over_ , Pete thought with a fond smile. He brushed his finger over the red pair, feeling  his dick twitch in his jeans as he imagined the feel of all that silk around his erection and against his ass. “You know,” he said slowly, working up his nerve and hoping that Patrick didn’t think he was a raving pervert at the same time. “If you want…I could wear them for you.”

Patrick turned to look at him, his eyes wide. “What?”

“I could wear them for you. I mean, if you really wanted to see them on someone,” Pete said again. He took a closer look at the red pair. “They look like they might fit. And the silk…I bet they’d feel nice…you know…down there.” He glanced over at Patrick, surprised when he saw his lover’s flushed cheeks. “Trick? Baby?”

Patrick nodded, swallowing hard. “Ummm…yeah,” he finally said. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Pete asked again, wanting to be sure.

“Yeah.” Patrick’s voice was soft but firm. “I want you to. I want to see you in them.”

Glancing down, Pete caught sight of the bulge in his lover’s pants and immediately understood. “You really like that idea, don’t you?” he asked softly as he put a hand on Patrick’s knee. “Me wearing something pretty?” He grinned when Patrick blushed and hid his face in Pete’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Nothing to be embarrassed about. We all have our kinks.” He paused, thinking back. “Was this what you didn’t want to tell me before? When I mentioned the mirrors and liking to watch?”

After a moment, Patrick nodded. “Kind of? I mean, I know they were originally for her, but she never wore stuff like that. Not even when we were first going out. Her things were always plain.”

Pete buried a kiss in his hair. “And you like the fancy stuff.”

“I like…unwrapping,” Patrick finally said. “Admiring the person I’m with in something like that and then slowly taking it off them…I like doing that.” He paused, cringing a little. “Does that sound weird?”

“No. Not at all. Not one bit.” Pete nuzzled his lover’s bright hair, remembering the feel of Patrick’s hands on him while taking off his clothes. They had always been slow, gentle and now he understood why. “I like it when you do that. Feeling your hands when you touch me like that…it not only feels really good, it tells me how much you love me.” He paused. “She never got that, did she?”

“I don’t think so.” Patrick looked up. “You sure you’d be okay with …you know…wearing them for me?”

“Never had a problem with wearing women’s clothes before, babe,” Pete said, grinning. “And I’ve never had the chance to wear something as pretty as these. I’m looking forward to it.” He gave Patrick a lingering kiss. “Not now, though. I’ll surprise you sometime soon. Okay?”

Patrick nodded. “Okay.”

Closing the box and setting it aside, Pete moved on. Another, larger box containing a black cocktail dress covered in tiny jet beads was next. “Award show dress?”

“Yeah. Last minute something happened, though, and she never went. I don’t even remember which show it was for or what happened.” He paused. “The box underneath that one is the shoes, I think. And a purse.”

Pete put them aside also. Pulling out a manila envelope, he peeked inside and saw not only several CD’s but a few memory cards as well. “I think these are the pictures you mentioned.”

Patrick nodded. “I should go through them. I don’t remember what’s on half of them.”

“I could do it with you if you want,” Pete offered. “Something like that…you shouldn’t do it alone.”

Patrick offered a grateful smile. “I’d like that, thanks.”

Pete put the envelope on top of the dress box before pulling out more gift boxes. He opened them to find several sweaters, a leather driving coat and gloves and a very lacy cream nightgown and robe set with a Victoria’s Secret label on it. “I remember this,” Pete said, taking a second look at it, “One of the models wore something like this when we did the show that time. They asked us if we wanted anything.”

Patrick nodded. “And I picked that. She never wore that, either.”

Shaking his head, Pete closed the pink striped box and put that on top of the others. Pulling out another, larger manila envelope, he peeked inside that one as well. “Looks like postcards.” Just then he remembered Patrick’s habit of picking one up at every stop during the tour and mailing it out. Without another word he put that aside with the photographs.

He pulled out a brown teddy bear next, smiling. “Valentine’s day?” he guessed, fingering the heart embossed ribbon around it’s next.

“Our first one,” Patrick answered. “It didn’t go well.” At Pete’s puzzled frown, Patrick explained. “She made a point of telling me that she was a grown woman and not six years old. I stuck with flowers after that.”

_God, what a bitch_ , Pete thought as he put the bear on top of the boxes. At the bottom of the box were several velvet covered boxes of varying sizes. _Jewelry_ , Pete guessed, immediately recognizing the pale blue one lying upside down in one corner. _The engagement ring._ “I have an idea if you want to hear it,” he said.

“Sure.”

“You said you didn’t want to keep any of this, right?” Patrick nodded again. “Have you thought about donating everything? Dr. Anne works with a women’s organization always looking for nice clothes. It gives them to people for job interviews and stuff, abuse survivors trying to get back on their feet.” He paused. “She’d appreciate it and so would they.”

“And so would I knowing all that would be put to good use,” Patrick said, smiling. “I’ll give her everything the next time we see her.” He paused. “The jewelry, too?”

“Better idea for that,” Pete said. “Downtown on jeweler’s row, there’s a guy. His shop is where I bought Ash’s engagement ring from. Nice guy, must be pushing eighty. Specializes in older pieces, mostly but he recycles a lot of things into custom work.” Pete nodded toward the jewelry boxes. “He’ll give you a good price. Take the award show dress, too.”

Patrick thought for a moment. “Don’t want to keep the money, either,”

“Donate it like you did the money from the condo.” Pete’s voice was just as soft. Reaching out, he took Patrick’s hand and turned it over, his thumb brushing over the semi-colon tattoo. “Maybe?”

Patrick, however, was already nodded. “Yes,” Grasping Pete’s hand, the singer drew him into a kiss. “You’re amazing.”

“You’re not so bad, either,” Pete said, stealing another kiss. “And for anything else that deserves a more permanent end, there’s the fire pit out on the patio. Or we can get Hemmy to bury it. He’d probably love to help.”

“Probably. I’ll flip a coin sometime later and let you know which one I pick.” There was a pause. “Thank you. And not just for this.” Sighing, he settled into Pete’s embrace. “I love you.”

“I know,” Pete said, holding Patrick close. “And I love you, too.”

                                                                        *****

Elisa paused at the glass door, frowning a little as she checked the address. “A psychiatrist?” she wondered out loud before shrugging. She wasn’t surprised, really; she had always thought that Patrick wasn’t mentally stable. Opening it, she went upstairs.

The small office was empty except for a young woman with bright green streaks in her hair sitting behind a window typing something on her phone. “I’m here to see Patrick Stump,” Elisa said, her voice both firm and dismissive at the same time. “Please tell him that Elisa is here.”

Just then, an older woman dressed in jeans and a crisp white shirt came out, a pleasant smile on her face. “Elisa? I’m Dr. Anne Casselberry. Would you follow me, please?”

Elisa frowned. “I’m here to see Patrick,” she repeated, an edge to her voice.

“You’re a bit early. He’s on his way. You’re welcome to wait for him in my office,” Dr. Anne said, keeping the smile on her face. “Please follow me.”

Heaving an exasperated sigh – Patrick should be here waiting for her, not the other way around – she followed the other woman down the short hallway. “So Patrick is seeing a shrink now?” she asked as she walked.

Dr. Anne didn’t answer her. Instead, she stopped at a closed door at the end of the hall and opened it. “You can wait in here. He shouldn’t be much longer.”

Elisa’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Once again, Dr. Anne didn’t answer her. She simply turned and headed back down the hall.

Sighing again – Patrick was definitely going to hear about this – Elisa stepped into the office and sat down in the nearest chair to wait.

Several minutes later, Pete and Patrick were making their way up the stairs. “She’s here,” Dr. Anne said as soon as she saw them. “She’s waiting for you in the end office, Patrick.”

“Figures she’d be early,” Pete muttered, frowning. Catching the panicked look on Patrick’s face, he put an arm around him. “Sure you want to do this, babe? You don’t have to.”

Swallowing down his panic, Patrick nodded. “Yes, I do. For me if nothing else,” was the soft reply. “This way it’s over and done and she’s out of our lives for good. It can’t be any other way.” He looked at Pete, hazel eyes pleading for understanding. “Okay?”

Pete sighed. Knowing Patrick was right and liking it were two different things; he was more than willing to accept the first but there was no way he could manage the second, not with how worried he was. “Yeah. Okay,” he finally said before drawing the singer into his arms. “Just remember one thing? I’ll be right out here. If she starts making you uncomfortable or tries any of her shit, you yell.”

“I will. Loudly, I promise.” Patrick leaned in for a lingering kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Unexpectedly, Pete kissed his forehead as well, a benediction. “You’ve got this,” he whispered as he reluctantly let Patrick go. “You are strong and badass and you got this. Go on. I’ll be waiting for you when you come out.”

_Incentive_ , Patrick thought, giving Pete a grateful smile before heading down the hall. Pausing at the slightly ajar door, he closed his eyes for a moment, bringing Pete’s smiling face to mind. _You got this._ Plastering a smile on his face, he tapped on the door and went in. “Elisa.”

Elisa turned in her chair and Patrick caught the briefest flash of annoyance on her face before giving him a wide smile of her own. “Patrick! It’s about time you came! I’ve been waiting here forever for you.”

A split second before Patrick blurted out an apology he clamped his mouth shut. _Don’t. You haven’t done anything wrong. She’s exaggerating and putting the blame on you when there is none, so don’t._ How long had she done things like this, said things in that tone of voice and he had apologized without thinking? Without questioning?

Elisa got up from her chair, hesitating a little when she saw the look on his face. He usually apologized for making her wait, but he hadn’t this time. “It’s good to see you,” she finally said, looking him over and taking in the black jeans, bright blue t-shirt and black leather jacket he was wearing. The jacket would have to go, she decided immediately. She was almost sure that if it wasn’t actually Pete’s, then the bassist had something very similar. “You look wonderful. Did you get all dressed up just for me?”

“Actually, no. I didn’t,” Patrick said, smiling a little as he remembered. Pete had picked the shirt out after watching him stare into the open closet for a good ten minutes trying to decide what to wear, all the while talking softly to him about the movie they had watched the night before, the birds Hemmy had chased out of the backyard that morning, the studio time they had booked for next week – anything to keep his mind off what he was going through. Right before they had walked out the door, Pete had pulled his leather jacket – the same jacket he had given to Patrick before leaving the hospital – out of the coat closet and draped it over his shoulders, mumbling about it being cold out how he didn’t want Patrick catching a chill. Never mind that it was warm out and Patrick’s own leather jacket was hanging next to Pete’s in the same closet; Pete had remembered how much comfort his own had given the singer after everything he had been through.

“Oh,” Elisa said, her smile faltering a bit. She wasn’t used to Patrick acting so standoffish to her. Usually he hovered, annoying her with how close he came to her sometimes. “Well…you do look nice.” She took a step closer, tilting her cheek toward him. “Don’t I get a kiss at least?”

“No.”

Elisa’s smile disappeared. “What?”

“I said no,” Patrick repeated. “I realize that no is a word you’ve probably never heard from me before, but it’s something you might want to get used to. At least for the next few minutes.”

Elisa started, her eyes wide. “What did you say to me?” she finally asked.

“You heard me the first time,” Patrick said, a feeling of calm slowly stealing over him. He stood where he was, not wanting to get any closer. “What do you want?”

She blinked back a sudden onrush of tears. “Why are you being so mean to me?” she asked, letting a soft sob escape. “I haven’t done anything.”

_Not liking the taste of your own medicine?_ Patrick thought, watching his ex with a critical eye. He could tell that the tears had been whipped up for his benefit; he assumed he was supposed to apologize and start groveling like he had so many times before. “Neither have I,” Patrick finally said. “You can stop the act. It’s not going to work.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, sniffling. “I’m hurt, Patrick. You’re hurting me.”

“Like you hurt me I don’t know how many times?” When she continued to sniffle he sighed, his patience coming to an end. “Elisa, you said you wanted to talk to me. I’m here. If you’ve changed your mind about that…” He reached for the door handle.

“No! Patrick, don’t go.” She grabbed his arm, keeping him where he was. “Please…we do need to talk. Don’t leave.” A pleading look appeared on her face as she let out a hiccupping little sob. “Please? I think you owe me that much, don’t you?”

Gently, Patrick pulled his arm out of Elisa’s grasp. _I don’t owe you a thing_ , he thought, stopping himself from saying it out loud just in time. He didn’t want to start fighting with her now. “Go ahead and sit back down,” he said instead. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Sitting back down, Elisa made a show of dabbing at her eyes with a tissue as she gathered her thoughts together. “I’ve missed you,” she finally said, giving him a smile.

Patrick raised an eyebrow as he sat down across from her. “Have you? That’s a little surprising since you’re the one who left.”

She pouted at him. “You didn’t give me much of a choice, did you?” she said, her voice hardening. “You were the one screwing around with your best friend on me.”

Patrick sighed. “For the last time, Pete and I weren’t having sex then. Or at any other time when I was with you.”

She glared at him. “But you are now, aren’t you?” she spat at him. “I know you are. I saw you both on “Ellen”.”

“Then you know the answer to your own question,” Patrick said evenly, still wondering what she was getting at and hoping that she would get to it eventually.

Elisa wrinkled her nose, the look of distaste clear on her face. “Well that’s going to have to stop if this is going to work between us.”

Patrick frowned. “If what is going to work between us?”

“Us getting back together,” she said to his surprise. “I may have tolerated you going off with Pete to God only knows where for who knows how long before, but I’m certainly not going to now.” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Patrick. “And you have no right asking me to.”

“I don’t recall asking you to do anything,” Patrick said slowly, partially because he wasn’t sure what she was getting at and partially because he wanted to make sure she heard her correctly. “And I don’t know where you came up with the idea that we’re getting back together, because we’re not.”

“Of course we are. You said so on “Ellen” yourself. We’re getting married.” She beamed at him. “I’m going to have to see the ring first, of course. And we’re not doing anything until we find a new place to live as far away from Chicago as possible, but that shouldn’t take long.” She settled back into her chair. “Some place warm, with no snow. Atlanta, maybe. Or Miami! Miami would be perfect.”

_Perfect for who? A sand crab?_ Patrick couldn’t help thinking, wondering where Elisa was coming up with all this. Was she really that delusional? And had she always been that way? “Elisa…”

She went on, not even hearing Patrick as he tried to get her attention. “You’ll have to find some kind of job, too,” she said, obviously thinking out loud. “Something where you’re home every night and not off doing who knows what. Something steady.” Tapping her finger against her lip, she finally turned her attention back to Patrick. “Hmm…I can’t think what right now. What can you do that doesn’t have anything to do with music?”

Patrick didn’t answer her. Instead, he asked, “Elisa, what in God’s name are you talking about? You’re not making any sense.”

“Our new life together, of course,” she said as if were obvious. She suddenly frowned. “You could help me with that instead of just sitting there, you know. I can’t do everything like I have been.”

_God help me, she’s gone off the deep end_ , Patrick thought, letting out a heavy sigh. This was going to take a lot longer than he thought. Briefly he toyed with the idea of just walking out, but he put that thought aside just as quickly. _Get this over with_ , he thought. “So let me get this straight,” he finally said, wanting to make sure he understood. “You want me to give up my livelihood, the one thing that I love doing more than anything, leave my friends, my family, everyone I know and love and start all over again in a strange city halfway across the country where I would know absolutely no one, all to be together with you in some kind of bizarre happily ever after Hallmark fantasy?”

Elisa’s frown turned into a scowl. “That’s not what I said at all, Patrick. Pay attention.”

“Oh, I am. And that’s sure as hell what it sounded like to me.” When she opened her mouth again to speak, Patrick put up a hand to stop her. “Let me save you the trouble of repeating everything. No. More to the point, hell no.”

Her eyes went wide. “What did you say to me?”

“I said no. We’re not getting back together, we’re not getting married and we are definitely not doing anything else you seem to think we are.” Patrick’s voice was firm. “In fact, if that’s the reason why you asked to talk to me, then we’re done.” He got up from his chair. “I’m leaving.”

“What?” She stared at him. “You can’t just leave!”

“Can’t I?” He reached for the door handle. “Watch me.”

She got up from her chair. “Don’t you dare walk out on me!” she said, screeching. “How dare you! After everything you’ve done, everything you’ve put me through!” She stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “You can’t treat me like this! I won’t let you!”

_She won’t let me? God, she’s worse than even Pete thought she’d be,_ Patrick thought. _Why didn’t I see it? Why didn’t I see how she really was?_ He knew why and a part of him wondered how he could have been so blinded by love for so long. “Elisa, I’m really trying not to treat you any differently than I ever have but you’re not making any kind of sense.” He paused. “You don’t have any say in my life anymore. You haven’t since you left.”

“And who does now? Pete?” She shot back. “Are you at that bastard’s beck and call now? Because you certainly can’t think for yourself. You’ve never have.”

_Let her say what she wants_ , Patrick thought to himself, surprised at how calm he was, how her words were having so little effect on him. _None of what she’s saying is true. And Pete is waiting for me on the other side of the door._ He smiled at the thought.

The moment Elisa saw Patrick smiling, her anger turned into rage. “You’re thinking about him right now, aren’t you?” she taunted. “God, you are so pathetic. You honestly think that someone like him – that self-centered lunatic bastard – could even begin to care about someone like you?” She pointed at herself, “ **I’m** the only one who could care about such an absolute mess as you are, do you hear me? Me! I’m the one who wants you to get better and live a normal life, whose willing to put up with you like this!” She waved a hand toward the door. “All he wants from you is a convenient fuck!” Her hand swung higher, palm raised.

Patrick managed to catch Elisa’s wrist before the slap hit. “You of all people don’t get to talk about Pete that way,” he said, keeping his anger under control through sheer force of will. “Not after everything that’s gone on and not after everything not only I’ve been through but he has, too. Because he’s been with me through every second of this and you haven’t. So you don’t get to try feeding me the line that you care and he doesn’t, because I know that’s bullshit.”

As suddenly as it had appeared, Elisa’s rage vanished. “Oh, Patrick…of course I care about you,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re being ridiculous. You know you are.”

“See, I don’t think I am,” Patrick said. “So you don’t get to talk to me the way you have since pretty much the day we met. Not anymore. I’m not going to let you.” He paused. “You don’t talk that way to someone you care about, Elisa. No matter what they’ve done. And especially if they haven’t done anything. I’m just sorry it took me so long to realize that.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe because I didn’t want to. Maybe because I thought that if I did everything you wanted the way you wanted it, things would change. You would change.” He sighed. “Maybe I should have known better, but I loved you and I hoped. I hoped until the day you left. And even after you did, I still wondered why. What had I done wrong?” He shook his head. “It took me all this time to see that I hadn’t done anything, that it was all in my head. Because of you.”

“Patrick…darling…you know that’s not true. You know I cared about you. I still do.” She took a step closer, her voice softening. “And I know that you still care about me.”

Patrick let out another, heavier sigh. “A part of me always will,” he admitted. “I did love you, Elisa. And I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you then. But not now.” He paused. “Things have changed.”

“Because of Pete,” she spat out, her anger returning. “This is all his fucking fault. He’s the one who’s confusing you, lying to you and making you think all these crazy things.”

“Crazy things like what? That I deserve love from someone who loves me? Because that’s all he’s done, Elisa.” Patrick tapped himself on the chest. “He loves me for me. Not for what I can do for him or what I can give him, and not on condition that I change myself into something that I’m not.” He paused. “He wants me to be happy. That’s all he’s ever wanted.”

“I can make you happy,” Elisa said, putting a hand on his arm. I can give you something he never can, something you’ve always wanted.” She gave him a knowing little smile. “You’ve always wanted a baby, a family. I know you have. You still do.” She paused. “When we get away from all this and get married, I can give you that.”

“You could,” Patrick acknowledged. “And a part of me still does want that. Not at the price you’re asking for, though.” He moved his arm away, forcing Elisa to let go. “And not with you.”

Anger returned. “And you think Pete will?” she sneered. “Do you honestly think someone that selfish and full of himself could care about another person like that? Could care about you that much?”

“He already does. He tells me a dozen different ways every day,” Patrick’s voice was quiet and sure. “When have you ever told me the same when you haven’t been trying to manipulate me?”

The hurt expression that Elisa had worn reappeared. “That’s not true,” she whimpered, tears once again in her eyes.

“It is true. It’s been true for as long as we’ve known each other and we both know it. How many times have I told you, showed you? And how many times have you shown me?” She didn’t answer and Patrick felt a sense of relief. Over. This whole ordeal was almost over. “Are we done here?”

She stared at him, her eyes wide. “You’re going back to him?” she asked, not believing what she was hearing. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, not when she had planned everything out so carefully. Patrick was supposed to see reason and leave with her, not do this. “After everything that’s happened? You’re choosing Pete?”

“I’m choosing Pete,” Patrick said, his voice soft. “I’m choosing Pete because I love him and I know that he loves me. It’s that simple. And how it’s supposed to be.” He reached for the doorknob and turned it before facing Elisa for the last time. “Good-bye, Elisa.” Turning away, he walked out of the office and headed straight down the short hallway to the waiting room.

Pete was staring out the window, his hands in his pockets, not even pretending to be patiently waiting. Patrick couldn’t help but feel a surge of affection for the bassist’s obvious worry. “Hey you,” he said softly, unable to keep from smiling.

Pete turned, his worry immediately vanishing the moment he saw Patrick standing there. “Hey you,” he said, his voice soft as he stepped away from the window. “Everything okay?”

Patrick immediately stepped into the bassist’s waiting arms, sighing when they wrapped around him. “Now I am,” he said, closing his eyes. He heard Pete sigh as well before feeling the lightest brush of a kiss against his temple. He tightened his hold around Pete’s waist and finally let himself relax.

Neither one of them saw Elisa come into the waiting room, her mouth set in a long, thin line as she looked at the two men embracing in front of her. “Congratulations, Pete,” she finally said, her voice dripping bitterness. “You won.” Stalking past them both, she headed down the stairs, the door slamming behind her.

Neither man noticed.

                                                                        *****

“I have a surprise for you.”

Patrick looked up from his laptop, smiling at a grinning Pete. “Is it a surprise if you announce it?” he asked.

“It is if you don’t say what the surprise is,” Pete said as he stood in front of the coffee table where Patrick was working. He waved a hand at the laptop. “Are you some place where you can stop? Or should I go away for a while?”

Patrick snorted. “You and I both know you wouldn’t really go away,” he said, still smiling. “You’d just stand there bouncing up and down like a demented bunny until I paid attention to you.” He typed on a few keys. “Give me a sec and I’m all yours.”

_You already are_ , Pete thought as he watched, his heart skipping a beat at the sight. Two weeks had passed since Patrick’s confrontation with Elisa, and the only change Pete could see in the singer was that he was happier and the anxiety attacks were growing less frequent. He still had nightmares, still woke up occasionally whimpering and clinging to Pete, but those were getting less frequent as well. A confident, smiling Patrick was a beautiful thing to see.

Shutting off the laptop, Patrick slid it under the couch out of harms way before leaning back against the cushions. “So what’s all this about a surprise?” he asked. “And what’s the occasion?”

“Well, the occasion is because I fucking love you,” Pete said as he came closer, still grinning. “And the surprise…I bet you can guess what it is if you think hard enough.”

“I get to guess what my surprise is? Okay. Although I’m not sure how fair that is.” His eyes swept over Pete’s frame, taking in the battered black jeans that hugged every curve of his ass, the black t-shirt with the bright red Clandestine bat heart logo on it, the patch of exposed skin between the t-shirt’s cut off hem and the waistband of his jeans showing off defined abs, the top of Pete’s bat heart tattoo below his belly button and just the thinnest sliver of red silky material….

Patrick blinked and adjusted his glasses, leaning forward to get a better look. His heart skipped a beat – definitely fire engine red silk. “Oh, God,” he breathed as he looked up at Pete, finally noticing the definite flush to the bassist’s cheeks. “You have them on right now, don’t you?” he asked, even though he was pretty sure what the answer was going to be. “The red La Perla panties.”

“Mmm hmm.” Pete’s dark eyes were bright. “Surprise.”

“It certainly is.” Patrick eyed Pete’s crotch; there were definite signs of an erection. “How long have you had them on?”

“Not even a half an hour. I just took a shower and changed into them.” Pete let out a shaky little laugh. “I gotta tell you, Trick…they feel pretty incredible.”

“I bet they look incredible, too.” Getting up, Patrick pulled Pete into a tongue-tangling kiss. His hand slid down to Pete’s belly, fingertips tracing the edges of his tattoo. “Upstairs?”

“Upstairs,” Pete agreed. Taking Patrick’s hand, he began leading him toward the stairs. “Can’t wait for you to see.”

“Neither can I. I was wondering when you were going to spring them on me.” Following Pete up the stairs, he let himself be pulled into the bedroom. “And I don’t know whether it’s the panties or those jeans, but I’m having a hard time keeping my hands off your ass.”

Pete let out a breathless little laugh as he pulled Patrick back into his arms. “You don’t have to now.”

Cupping Pete’s face in his hands, Patrick gave him another lingering kiss. “But now my hands will be busy doing other things,” He slid them downward until they grasped the hem of Pete’s shirt. “Arms up, love.”

Pete obliged. “I like that. You calling me love,” he said as Patrick slowly slid his shirt up over his head and dropped it to the floor. “No one ever has before. It’s nice.”

Patrick brushed his lips against Pete’s collarbone, his tongue tracing the lines of his tattoo. “That’s what you are. My love.” He kissed his way down Pete’s necklace of thorns, feeling him shiver in response. “You know I dreamed of kissing you like this?”

“Always wanted you to.” Pete brushed his fingers through Patrick’s hair. “Hang on a minute? I think we both forgot something.”

Patrick looked up. “What?” Carefully Pete slid his glasses off his nose. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Pete put them on the nightstand behind him before coming back to brush his fingers along Patrick’s cheek. “Beautiful baby.”

Patrick blushed. “So are you.” He placed a kiss against Pete’s semi-colon tattoo. “I can feel your heart beat when I kiss you right there.” He suddenly grinned. “It’s getting a little faster.”

“You’re kissing me and I’m wearing women’s underwear. I think I’m pretty calm considering,” Pete said, laughing softly. Taking Patrick’s hands, Pete kissed his fingers. “Feel free to unwrap the rest of your surprise.”

“Don’t be so impatient. I’m getting there,” Patrick chided gently as he slid his hands down Pete’s sides to the waistband of his jeans. He went to his knees, trailing kisses down his abdomen to his belly button. “I want to take my time.”

“Oh, God,” Pete breathed as Patrick planted his hands firmly on his ass. “Take all the time you want, sweetheart. I’m all yours.”

Patrick rested his forehead against the bassist’s stomach, breathing in his scent as Pete ran his fingers through his hair. “Mine,” Patrick murmured as he moved lower, nuzzling Pete’s trapped erection. “All mine.” He paused at the button of Pete’s jeans. “Can I?” he asked, looking up.

“Babe, you can do absolutely do anything you want. You don’t have to ask.” He watched as Patrick undid his jeans and pulled them down enough to expose another sliver of red silk. “You really should feel these on. They’re beyond amazing.”

Patrick smiled. “I think I’ll just enjoy them on you.” He sat back on his heels. “Take off your pants. It’s my turn to watch.”

Pete stepped back, grinning as he bounced on his toes. “You want a strip show? Okay. I can do that.” Hooking his fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, he wiggled until they were off his hips. Letting them fall into a puddle around his ankles, he stepped out of them and kicked them aside before straightening. “Well?”

Patrick’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened. The silky red panties clung to Pete’s hips, the lace accents around the top emphasizing his hip dents and pointed directly at the bulge straining the material. “God, look at you,” he breathed, looking up at his lover’s face. “Can you turn around?”

“Sure.” Pete slowly turned, giving Patrick a view of his ass covered in bright red fabric. He looked over his shoulder. “Like what you see?”

Swallowing hard, Patrick nodded. “You’re perfect,” he whispered. “So fucking perfect. Come here.”

Pete stepped closer, stopping directly in front of the kneeling singer. “What do you want, baby?” he said softly. “I’ll do anything.”

“Just stand there.” Patrick slid his hands up Pete’s bare legs. “Stand there and let me just… God, I just…I need to…” He didn’t finish. Instead, he pressed a kiss right in the center of Pete’s crotch, licking a damp spot into the fabric.

Pete let out a soft moan. “Fuck, Patrick…”

Pulling the panties down enough to free his lover’s cock, Patrick pressed another kiss against the tip before licking away the pearly white fluid leaking out. “Mmm, so good,” he murmured, savoring the salty, slightly bitter taste. He swirled his tongue around the flared head before sliding his mouth over it, not stopping until Pete’s dick was nudging the back of his throat and his nose was buried in the bassist’s wiry pubic hair.

Pete watched, his eyes wide as he began petting Patrick’s hair. “Jesus, Patrick,” he gasped as the singer began to move, slowly sliding back until taking him deep again. “Please…baby, please…”

“So good,” Patrick said again in between kisses and licks. “You’re being so good for me. And you look so pretty, so hot.” He looked up. “Perfect.”

“God, don’t stop,” Pete begged, brushing Patrick’s hair back. “Please let me feel your mouth on me, please.” He whimpered as Patrick took him in his mouth again. “God, yes. That’s it.”

_Yes,_ Patrick thought as he sucked. _Love doing this. Hearing you, tasting you…love you, Pete…love you._ He dug his fingers into Pete’s thighs, holding him still. _So good…so fucking good…._

“Patrick,” Pete managed to get out a moment later. “Baby, please…I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.” Pete meant it to be a warning; Patrick took it as added incentive. Groaning, he sucked even harder, leaving no spot untouched as he relaxed his throat and took Pete as deep as he could.

That was all it took; a moment later Pete was gasping, his fingers tightening in his lover’s hair as he came. Patrick greedily swallowed, licking him clean before reaching up to unclench his lover’s hands. “I’ve got you,” he murmured as he stood up. He cupped Pete’s face in his hands before giving him a gentle kiss. “It’s okay, love. I got you. I love you.”

“Love you,” Pete managed to get out as he head fell onto Patrick’s shoulder. “Fucking hell, sweetheart. That was…God.”

Patrick let out a soft chuckle as he reached down to tug his lover’s panties back into place. “God, I love making you incoherent,” he said as he softly kissed Pete’s cheek.

Pete let out a breathless little laugh as well. “Love it when you do.” There was a pause. “Did you like your surprise?”

“I love it.” Patrick slid a hand down Pete’s back to grasp a silk clad buttock. “I’m not done with you yet, though.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Pete lifted his head up, his eyes sparkling. “Because I’m dying for you to fuck me.”

“Definitely,” Patrick agreed, giving Pete’s ass a squeeze before letting go. “On the bed.”

Pete climbed onto the bed and lay back against the pillows, rubbing his hand over his groin. “This how you want me?”

“That’ll do for now,” Patrick said as he began taking off his clothes. “Go ahead and touch yourself. Get yourself hard for me again.”

“Already am,” Pete said as he watched Patrick strip. “All I have to do is watch you. You’re fucking amazing.”

“You’re the one who’s amazing looking,” Patrick said, blushing. “Laying there wearing only a pair of silk panties and a grin. I can’t believe you went through with it.”

“Well, it just seemed a shame seeing them all wrapped up in that little box and you not getting a chance to enjoy them,” Pete said. “And they really do feel good. I might start wearing stuff like this all the time.”

“Oh, God,” Patrick breathed, swallowing hard. “I don’t know if I could handle that. Especially if you wear them onstage.”

The moment Patrick’s clothes were on the floor, Pete gently pulled him onto the bed. “And honestly? I don’t know if I’d go that far.” His voice softened. “I kinda like the idea of wearing them just for you.”

Patrick drew him into a lingering kiss. “And that’s definite, too. No one sees you like but me.”

“Damn straight.” Sliding his arms around Patrick’s neck, he pulled the singer even closer. “And that goes double, triple, infinity for you.” He brushed a kiss against Patrick’s lips. “You should see how the fans look at you onstage sometimes. Both the girls and the guys. So fucking beautiful and mine. All mine.”

“Yours,” Patrick agreed softly in between kisses. “And you’re mine.”

“Always was. Always will be,” Pete promised. He wrapped his long legs around Patrick’s waist, rubbing himself against the singer’s erection. “Patrick…please, baby…”

Patrick gave him another, harder kiss. “Turn over,” he ordered softly. “On your hands and knees.”

Pete immediately drew away enough to do as he was told, another sigh escaping him as Patrick began trailing kisses across his shoulders. “God…yes…”

“Yes,” Patrick echoed, rubbing himself against Pete’s silk clad ass. “Can’t wait to be buried in you.” He reached toward the bedside table. “We need…”

Pete reached over as well, digging until he found the familiar tube. He pressed it into Patrick’s hand. “This what you’re looking for?” he asked, grinning.

“Smartass,” Patrick planted a kiss on the small of Pete’s back right above his panties. He pulled them down enough to expose his ass, carefully working one finger in. “Okay?”

Pete arched back into the touch, letting out a soft moan. “God, Patrick…more…” His moan grew louder when one finger became two. “Yes, baby…please…”

“Easy, love,” Patrick crooned into his ear as he thrust his fingers in and out of Pete’s hole. “Easy. I’ve got you.” He kissed Pete’s bare shoulder. “Gonna be your turn to scream the house down in a minute.”

“Can’t fucking wait.” A whimper escaped him as he felt Patrick’s fingers withdraw. “No…don’t stop…”

“Not stopping. Not ever.” Patrick soothed him with another kiss. Slicking up his erection, he pressed himself against Pete, the head of his cock nudging the entrance to his lover’s body. “Ready for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes…fuck!” Pete yelled, his fingers digging into the comforter as Patrick entered him, burying himself in his ass with one thrust. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

“So do you. All hot and tight and perfect.” He began to thrust, moaning into Pete’s shoulder. “So good. Love you…”

“Love you so fucking much,” Pete gasped, his eyes screwed shut as he rocked his hips in time with Patrick’s. “God, please…please please please…:” He cried out, shaking when Patrick nailed his prostate dead on. “Fuck! There!”

“Like that?” Patrick asked, moving his hips. “Right there?”

“Yes! Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” Pete was babbling and he didn’t care, losing himself in the sharp stab of pleasure that shot through him every time Patrick moved. “Love this. Love you. Love feeling you all over me.” He reached down, intending to rip off the panties and wrap his hand around his aching dick when Patrick reached down and drew it away. “No…baby, please…”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Patrick breathed into his ear, nipping at the lobe for good measure. “You’re gonna come just like this, right inside those pretty little red panties you’re wearing. Because you’re close, aren’t you? I can feel how close you are, how much you want to come.” He rubbed Pete’s bulge, drawing a gasp out of the other man. “That’s it, love. Come on.” He shuddered; he was close, but he wanted Pete with him, wanted to hear the bassist screaming his name when he came. “Come for me.”

It was a combination of those three things all at once – Patrick’s voice whispering in his ear, the hard, solid weight of the singer’s cock up his ass and Patrick’s long fingers caressing him through the red silk underwear he had on. Pete came harder than he ever had, howling Patrick’s name as he shook in his lover’s embrace. He was still shaking when Patrick managed one last thrust, muffling his own scream in Pete’s shoulder as he came.

Pete collapsed sideways onto the bed, bringing Patrick with him. Fumbling for the singer’s hand, he clung to it as he tried to catch his breath. “God,” he managed to get out, his eyes squeezed shut against the sudden, unexpected rush of tears. He whimpered again as Patrick slipped out, reaching back to grab at him. “No…Patrick…”

“Shh.” Patrick brushed kisses against his shoulders. “I’m here. I’ve got you,” he whispered. “You okay? You’re trembling still.”

“Yeah.” Pete sniffled, swiping at his eyes with his free hand. He squeezed Patrick’s fingers. “Just…Fourth of July.”

“Fireworks,” Patrick agreed, laying his head against Pete’s shoulder. He sighed. “We should clean up a little before we stick together.”

“Yeah.” Neither one of them moved.

After a moment, Pete looked down and grimaced. The panties were bunched up around his hips, barely covering his dick and exposing his ass fully. They were stretched out, the lace close to ripping and completely soaked from both his climax and Patrick’s. “Damn,” he muttered. “I think they’re ruined.”

“What?” Patrick murmured, stirring a little.

“The panties,” Pete clarified. “I think they’re ruined.”

“I don’t care,” Patrick said, kissing his shoulder again. “Best $275 I ever spent.”

Pete suddenly started giggling, unable to hold it in any longer. After a moment, Patrick joined him.

                                                                        *****

Several weeks later at the arena in Chicago, Pete was backstage watching Patrick go through the motions of tuning his guitar. He couldn’t help staring, opening admiring what he saw. The singer’s tight black jeans clung to every curve, making Pete’s fingers itch with wanting to touch. His black t-shirt made him look even slimmer and topped off with his black leather jacket caused Pete to bite his lip in an effort to hold back his wolf whistle. _So fucking beautiful,_ he thought, wanting more than anything to pull Patrick into the nearest dark corner and kiss him breathless. _Beautiful and sexy and perfect and mine. All mine._

Walking over, he stepped behind Patrick and put his hands on the singer’s waist. “Hey you,” he murmured into his ear.

Smiling, Patrick put his hands over Pete’s. “Hey you.” He looked over his shoulder. “Staying out of trouble?”

“Kind of. It’s getting a little hard seeing how sexy you look, though.” He nuzzled Patrick’s ear. “I wish I could just take you somewhere and have my way with you.”

Patrick shivered. “I wish you could, too,” he said, ducking his head to hide his red cheeks. “I don’t think there’s any place we can go and hide, though. Not here in the arena.”

Pete was about to grumble the same when an idea popped into his head. “Maybe there is,” he said slowly, his eyes meeting Patrick’s. “If you want?”

Turning a little in Pete’s arms, Patrick gave him a lingering kiss. “What do you think?” he asked, his eyes dancing merrily as he put his guitar in it’s stand.

Grabbing his lover’s hand in his, Pete began pulling him deeper backstage. “Come on. Before we end up groping each other in front of all these people.”

Patrick giggled. “That’s never going to happen,” he said knowingly. “No one sees you naked any more except me.”

Pete shivered at the possessive tone of Patrick’s voice. “Goes double for you, babe,” he said as they headed down a deserted hallway. He looked over his shoulder. “Especially dressed like that. Holy fuck.”

Patrick looked down at what he was wearing. “I always wear something like this on stage,” he said, confused.

“Exactly.” Pulling the singer into their dressing room, he quickly closed and locked the door, offering up a silent prayer of thanks that no one else was in there. “Those jeans should be fucking illegal.” He put his hands squarely on Patrick’s ass.

Patrick shivered as he pressed himself against Pete, rubbing his erection against the bassist’s thigh. “You’re sure the door’s locked?” he asked even as he looked at the lock himself; the last thing he wanted was anyone barging in on them unexpectedly.

“Definitely sure.” Cupping Patrick’s face in his hands, Pete gave him a tongue-tangling kiss. “Get your pants off and lie down on the couch.” He stopped for a moment. “If that’s what you want? You didn’t tell me.”

Instead of reaching for his own zipper, Patrick went for Pete’s, rubbing the bulge he felt there. “You know what I want?” he leaned forward enough to whisper in Pete’s ear. “I really want you to fuck me.” Their eyes met. “Can you?”

His own eyes wide, Pete nodded. “Yeah. Definitely. Anything you want, sweetheart. Just let me check something first.” Grabbing his backpack off the couch, he dug around in it until he pulled out a strip of condoms and lube. “Thank God,” he breathed, relieved as he tossed his backpack into the nearest corner.

A small frown crossed Patrick’s face. “Condoms? Little late for that, isn’t it?”

Pete shook his head. “Not for that. Easier clean up. We don’t a lot of time before the show.” He pulled Patrick into another tongue-tangling kiss. “On second thought, babe…fuck the couch. Stand and face the wall. Right here.”

Patrick was about to ask why when he noticed the full length mirror hanging on the opposite wall. “You kinky bastard.” Grinning, he braced himself against the wall. “Like this?”

“Perfect.” Pete immediately came up behind him and kissed the back of his neck. “So fucking perfect.” Undoing Patrick’s zipper, he reached inside, grinning as the redhead let out a low moan. “That’s it, baby.”

“God, yes,” Patrick sighed as his jeans and underwear were pushed down enough to expose his ass. “Love you. I love you.”

“Love you.” Reaching up, Pete pressed a wrapped condom into Patrick’s hand. “Here. You’d better do this.”

Tearing it open with his teeth, Patrick managed to roll it over his own erection while Pete put one over his. He suddenly jumped upon feeling Pete’s finger slick finger circling his hole. “Little cold.”

“Is it? Sorry, baby.” He pressed himself against Patrick, wrapping his arms around the singer’s waist. He nuzzled Patrick’s ear. “Ready for me?”

“God, yes.” He closed his eyes, letting out a long, drawn out groan as Pete slowly sank into him. “Oh…fuck, that’s good.”

“It is. Fucking amazing.” Reaching up, he grasped one of Patrick’s hands in his, twining their fingers together. “Look in the mirror and see.”

Patrick turned his head, his eyes going wide at the sight of Pete’s cock moving in and out of him. “God, Pete…fuck…please…please…”

“Yes,” Pete moaned in his ear. “That’s it, beautiful. Let me hear you.” He grinned as Patrick let out a loud cry. “So fucking hot.”

“Yes!” Patrick’s fingers clawed at the wall in front of him. “God, Pete…right fucking there!” Another even louder cry escaped him as Pete’s hands slid up the singer’s arms to twine their fingers together. “Oh, God…please!”

“I got you, baby,” Pete breathed into his ear before planting a hard kiss right below it. “Gonna mark you right here…right above your collar…so everybody who sees it tonight knows you’re taken.” He felt Patrick shiver in his arms. “You like that idea? Everyone knowing you’re mine?”

“Yours,” Patrick gasped, angling his head enough to give Pete better access. “Only yours. Mark me…bite me…anything.” He was so close; it wouldn’t take much more.

The moment Pete’s teeth sank into the junction where his neck and shoulder met, Patrick screamed, his body going rigid as he came. Pete took one look at his Patrick’s reflection in the mirror – cheeks flushed, eyes screwed shut, mouth open – and tumbled into his own orgasm right after him.

                                                                        *****

Joe reached for the dressing room’s door handle, about to go in when he heard something that sounded suspiciously like a moan coming from the other side. He frowned, toying with the idea of barging in anyway. This was the band’s private dressing room and the only people who should have been even considering fucking in there were…

Before he could finish the thought, there was a much louder cry, one that Joe immediately recognized. “Way to go, Patrick,” Joe muttered, smirking a little. “Which means…”

His suspicions were confirmed a moment later when he heard another moan, this one lower in tone and pitch. The smirk turning into a grin, Joe leaned against the door frame and folded his arms across his chest, checking his watch as he did so. They were due onstage in half an hour and he would bet his last dollar that neither one of his band mates were keeping an eye on the time.

“What are you doing?”

Joe looked up to see Andy standing in front of him, drumsticks in hand and a puzzled look on his face. “Guarding the door.”

Andy looked even more confused. “Against what?”

Joe was about to answer when they both distinctly heard Patrick cry out Pete’s name. “Does that answer your question?”

Andy shook his head, smiling a little. “Surprised we haven’t caught them before this.”

“Trust me, I came pretty close when we were on “Ellen”,” Joe said. At Andy’s look of disbelief, one of Joe’s eyebrows went up. “Come on, man. What else did you think those two were doing in the bathroom for so long?”

“Point taken.” Andy waved a drumstick at the door. “The lock?”

“Nope. And I’m not sure they know. Better safe than sorry.” Both of their eyebrows went up at a particularly loud cry. “Damn.”

“Well, at least Patrick won’t have to do his vocal warm-ups,” Andy said, shrugging. “I’m gonna check over my kit. You good?”

Joe nodded, listening for a moment. The cries on the other side of the door were getting louder by the minute. “Sounds like things are wrapping up. I’ll get them moving. See you out there.” Andy headed toward the stage as Joe settled back against the door frame to wait, keeping one eye on the time.

Finally, there was nothing but silence. “About damn time,” Joe muttered, giving them exactly one minute to cuddle before reaching back to bang on the door.

                                                                        *****

Patrick and Pete were both still catching their breath, calming each other with whispered words and soft kisses when a loud banging startled them both. “Guys! We’re onstage in twenty!” They heard Joe yell. “Put your pants on!”

“Fuck,” Pete cursed before giving Patrick a quick kiss. “Stay still, babe. I don’t want to hurt you.” He carefully withdrew, holding the singer steady as he sagged against the wall. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Patrick managed to get out. “Now I know what you mean by fireworks.”

“Fourth of July,” Pete agreed with a grin. “Stay right there. I’m gonna find something to clean us both up.”

A discarded t-shirt combined with a bottle of water took care of things and after a few minutes Patrick felt his pants being pulled back into place. Tucking himself in, he zipped up and turned into Pete’s waiting arms. “Thank you,” he said as he rested his forehead against Pete’s. “That was…” He shivered and didn’t finish.

“Yeah, it was for me, too,” Pete murmured, kissing Patrick’s temple before drawing away. He suddenly winced. “Fuck. I’m sorry, babe. I think I got a little carried away.”

“Hmm?” When Pete gestured to his neck, Patrick looked in the mirror. He brushed a finger against the definite teeth marks. “Well, that’s gonna be a pretty spectacular hickey.” Catching the contrite look on the bassist’s face, Patrick pulled him into a kiss. “It’s okay, love.”

“Really?” Pete couldn’t help the surprised note in his voice. “I thought for sure you’d be pissed.”

“Kinda hard to be pissed when I asked for it,” Patrick reminded him gently. He gave Pete another kiss for good measure. “Really. It’s okay.” He blushed. “I like it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future, then.” Picking up Patrick’s fedora, he settled it on his lover’s head. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are.” Patrick clasped Pete’s hand. “Lead the way.”

Nodding, Pete unlocked the door and they both stepped out. “Thanks for the two minute warning,” he said to Joe, who was still standing nearby.

Joe smirked. “More like fifteen now, but no problem. Figured with how good of a time you two were having, the last thing you would be doing was keeping an eye on the clock.” He suddenly let out a long, low whistle. “Damn, Trick. The fans sitting in the nosebleed seats are gonna see that love bite on your neck. No wonder you were screaming.”

Patrick’s cheeks turned red. “You heard?”

Joe snorted. “Dude, I wouldn’t be surprised if half the arena heard you.”

“Oh, God,” Suddenly embarrassed, he hid his face in Pete’s shoulder. “I didn’t think I was being _that_ loud.”

Pete couldn’t help snickering a little as he put an arm around his lover’s waist. “Look on the bright side, babe. You probably won’t need to do your vocal warm ups.”

Joe snickered as well. “Andy said the same thing on the way to his kit,” he said as they began walking toward the stage. “And you don’t have any right to talk, Pete. You were just as loud as he was.”

“How long were you standing out here?” Pete suddenly asked. When Joe didn’t answer right away, he suddenly frowned, shaking his head. “Dude.”

Joe held up a hand to stop the diatribe Pete was winding up to give him. “Before you say anything else, did you know that the dressing room door doesn’t lock?”

Both men stopped in their tracks to stare at him. “What?” Pete finally asked, his voice going up half an octave.

“What?” Patrick echoed. He turned narrowed eyes onto Pete. “Pete…”

“I locked it,” Pete said quickly. “I swear I did. You saw me.”

“Lock doesn’t catch,” Joe said matter-of-factly as they started walking again. “Found out a couple months ago when Andy walked in on me and Marie making the baby she’s having.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She still can’t look him in the eye. Turns as red as a traffic light and so does he.”

“Fuck,” Pete said again, shaking his head in disbelief. “I think we owe you a beer for this one. Thanks for not letting anyone barge in on us.”

“Seriously, thanks,” Patrick added as well, looking profoundly grateful. “And definitely a beer at the very least.”

“I accept your offer of an alcoholic beverage,” Joe intoned magnanimously. “After the show? Hit up some place for a late dinner maybe? Or do you two have plans to make out some more?”

Shrugging, Patrick turned to look at Pete, raising an eyebrow in question. Pete was about to shake his head no when he remembered not only the date but what he had in his pocket. “Maybe?” he said, drawing out the word. A grin crossed his face as he slung an arm around Patrick’s shoulder. “I mean, today’s a pretty important date for us. We might want to celebrate privately a little more later on. Know what I mean?”

“You’re not making it hard to figure out,” Joe said as he rolled his eyes. “And what may I ask is so important about today? What momentous occasion did I forget?”

Pete shook his head in mock disapproval. “You of all people should remember what today is,” he chided. “Especially since you’re the one who dragged me halfway across town to meet Patrick.”

“Oh my God, that was today?” Patrick’s face suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree. “It’s really been that long?”

Grinning, Pete nodded. “It’s really been that fucking long. Fourteen years.” He gave Patrick a loud smacking kiss on the cheek. “Happy anniversary, babe.”

“Happy anniversary,” Patrick said. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“Just kinda hit me.” Pete said, shrugging. “It’s a little hard to believe that it’s been that long. You know?”

“Yeah.” Patrick’s voice was soft as he brushed a kiss against Pete’s cheek. He turned to look at Joe. “We definitely owe you a beer now.”

“For this? You two idiots owe me the entire damn bar,” Joe corrected. “And more for putting up with you two all these years.” He pointed at them both. “I expect to get extremely intoxicated on your dime sometime in the near future. Deal?”

Pete nodded immediately. “Deal.” At Patrick’s raised eyebrows, the bassist shrugged. “Small price to pay if you think about it. And it’s definitely worth celebrating.”

Patrick nodded a moment later. “Maybe something we should get everyone involved in? Fourteen years is a long time.”

“Yeah.” Pete briefly thought about what he had hidden in his pocket. Hopefully before the night was over, the four of them would have a lot more to celebrate. “We’ll have to start planning something.”

“Show now. Plan later. Preferably over food and booze.” Pausing at the edge of the stage, Joe picked up his guitar and slung it over his shoulder, grinning. “Congrats, by the way. About fucking time things finally worked out for you two.”

“You know it. Thanks, man.” Together the two of them headed toward the other side of the stage, being careful making their way in the darkness. “You okay?” Pete asked softly as they waved to Andy on the drum riser.

“Fine. Better than fine, really.” A burst of laughter escaped him as they walked past Andy; he had stripped down to the gym shorts he wore on stage and he was acknowledging their waves with a double thumbs up. He turned back to Pete, seeing the brief flash of worry in Pete’s dark eyes. “Why?”

“Just asking.” They walked over to where their guitars were racked and waiting for them. Pete slung his bass over his shoulder. “The last time we were on stage, things didn’t end well.”

_He’s worried about me_ , Patrick realized, a warm feeling growing in his chest. _He always worries about me._ “Things are different now,” he said as he picked up his guitar. “Right?”

Taking Patrick’s hand in both of his, Pete brought it up to his lips and kissed his tattoo. “Right,” he said, his voice soft. “I love you.”

Kissing his fingers, Patrick pressed them against Pete’s chest directly over the bassist’s own tattoo. “I love you.” His voice was just as soft. “Let’s do this.”

The moment both men got into position, the opening violins for “The Phoenix” sounded, almost completely overshadowed by the roar of the sold out crowd. In the next instant, the stage lights flared to life and Andy practically pounded on his drums.

That was Patrick’s cue.

“Put on your war paint!”

                                                                        *****

The last chords to “Saturday” faded into the night air, leaving behind a split second’s worth of silence before the crowd erupted into cheers and screams. Patrick didn’t even try to stop the grin that was spreading across his face. The show had been perfect from beginning to end – no missed notes, no forgotten words, no mishaps of any kind. It was a night he’d remember for a long time to come.

_And not just for this_ , he thought as he looked at Pete. The bassist hadn’t stood still for more than five minutes the entire show as he interacted with fans, had a guitar duel with Joe and jumped up on the drum riser to play with Andy. Pete had spent a lot of the night close to him as well, grinning like a maniac as they shared a microphone, leaning against him while he sang along to the chorus of “Alone Together” and even standing by the piano while he sang “What A Catch”, silently mouthing the words along with him. It had all reminded Patrick of how he and Pete had been on stage before the hiatus.

_Almost_ , Patrick corrected himself as he watched Pete hand off his bass to one of the road crew. That Pete had been not only younger but a lot more obnoxious, doing things to provoke a reaction without caring if what he was doing was welcomed, wanted or even tolerated. This Pete had actually asked every time before making a move, sometimes with a mouthed questioning okay, sometimes with just a raised eyebrow but always waiting for Patrick’s nod of consent before continuing. And while Patrick sometimes missed the spontaneous, all hell breaks loose Pete a little, he was falling in love with this concerned, considerate, loving version all over again.

Just as he thought Pete was going to give the signal that they were calling it a night, he watched the bassist pick up the mike instead. He glanced over his shoulder at Joe, who shrugged and shook his head. This hadn’t been planned; what in the world was Pete doing?

“So before we call it a night,” Pete began, walking toward the edge of the stage. “There are a few things that need to be said.” He stopped just out of reach of a multitude of grasping hands. “For those of you who aren’t aware of what today is, the easiest way I can put it is that it’s an anniversary for us.” He pointed at Joe, grinning. “Fourteen years ago tonight in a suburban Chicago basement not too far from here, Joe Trohman over there introduced me to this 16 year old kid he had run into at a Borders bookstore.” The crowd cheered as Joe took a bow and flashed a double V for victory sign. “This kid – I couldn’t think of him as anything but a kid at the time – this kid had on an argyle sweater, khaki shorts and black knee socks, with black rimmed glasses and ginger sideburns down to about here.” Pete gestured to a place about half way down his cheek. “In all honesty, he looked like the biggest dork I had ever seen in my entire life.”

_Asshole_ , Patrick thought fondly as he flashed the bassist his middle finger, grinning all the while as the audience cheered. He wasn’t surprised when Pete blew him a kiss and continued on.

“Now that night, that kid came all prepared to be our next drummer.  And he was pretty good, don’t get me wrong,” Pete said as he started walking back and forth across the stage. “But then Joe and I finally convinced him to sing and when he did, we were floored to find out that this kid had a voice that an angel would sell his soul to the devil for.”

Patrick ducked his head to hide his red cheeks as he heard the frank, unvarnished admiration in Pete’s voice. Pete had always talked about his singing that way, calling him golden and always supporting him whenever he needed to baby his voice. He had been the one to come up with the hand signals and notepads necessary whenever Patrick had been on vocal rest. And out of everyone, Pete had become his biggest supporter and loudest cheerleader whenever the critics had torn him to shreds. Every step of the way, through every missed chord, every forgotten song lyric, every cracked high note, Pete had been there giving him what support he could.

“That golden voice became the voice of Fall Out Boy,” Pete continued when the cheers from the crowd died down. “And that 16 year old kid?” He began slowly walking toward Patrick, his eyes never leaving the singer’s face. “He became my band mate and my writing partner, my best friend and the love of my life.” He stopped in front of Patrick, a shaky smile on his face. “Fourteen years.”

Patrick couldn’t help smiling back, an ache filling his chest when he saw Pete’s eyes, the love so plainly, so clearly shining back at him. _So much love_ , he thought, wanting to reach out and draw Pete into his arms in spite of being onstage and in front of thousands of screaming fans. If the look on the bassist’s face was any indication, Pete needed a hug right about now.

He was just about to take off his guitar and do just that when Pete started talking again. “Fourteen years is a long time. A lot of things can happen. Hell, a lot of things **have** happened, both good and bad.” Pete took a deep breath and continued. “This guy…he’s seen me at my best and my absolute worst. But no matter how bad things got, no matter how many times we ended up screaming at each other, no matter how many times I fucked things up,” A small smile appeared on Pete’s face when Patrick shook his head. “I did. Don’t try and deny it. It’s a miracle we’re still speaking to each other, there were so many times.”

_Not just yours. Mine too_ , Patrick thought. He regretted every single one – every harsh word, every thrown punch, every time he saw that wounded look in Pete’s eyes. _So many fuck ups…_

“But no matter how many times it happened, you always came back.” Pete’s voice softened. “You always forgave me. Not only that, you did anything you could to help me when I got too lost inside my head.” Pete swallowed hard. “That meant – that still means everything to me.”

“You’ve done the same,” Patrick said softly, turning his wrist enough so Pete could see his tattoo. “You still are. Pete…”

Pete shook his head, stopping Patrick from continuing. “And I know…I know I’ve asked you to become so many things for me over the years, but tonight…on the anniversary of the day we met…I want to ask you if you would become just one more thing for me.”

“Anything,” Patrick said immediately, still wondering where Pete was going with all this.

He didn’t expect Pete to sigh with obvious relief as he reached into his pocket. He didn’t expect to see a black velvet ring box carefully cradled in the bassist’s hand. And the last thing he expected Pete to do was sink down onto one knee in front of him.

“Patrick Vaughn Stump, I love you,” Pete said, his voice shaking but strong, his eyes never leaving his lover’s stricken face. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you as your band mate, your writing partner, your best friend and your husband.” In the dead silence of the arena, Pete opened the ring box and held it out. Inside was a shining gold band. “Will you marry me?”

Patrick put a hand over his mouth to stifle the sob coming out as tears slowly slid down his cheeks. He could barely see through the haze they were creating and his heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it was going to fly out of his chest at any moment, but there was one thing he had to do before he let himself sink into Pete’s arms and let go of his control. One more thing he had to say.

He stepped back up to the microphone; he wanted to make sure Pete heard him, that everyone in the arena, in the world, knew his choice. “Yes.”

A moment later Pete’s arms were wrapped around him and he was being kissed breathless. He didn’t see the almost blinding glare of so many cameras going off at once or hear the deafening roar of the crowd collectively losing it’s mind. All he could feel was soft lips against his, strong arms holding him steady, dampness as Pete’s stubbled cheek brushed against his. Pete surrounding him, overwhelming him, loving him with everything he had while telling him in his own unique way that neither one of them was ever going to be alone again.

Finally, Patrick drew away enough to bury his face in Pete’s shoulder. “I’m going to kill you later,” he managed to get out, choking a little on the words.

Pete let out a shaky little laugh as he clung to Patrick for dear life. “Can’t think of a better way to go.”

Lifting his head up, Patrick reached up to brush Pete’s tears away before holding his hand out. “Put it on?”

Taking the ring out of the box, Pete slipped it onto his finger. It fit perfectly. “Do you like it?” he asked, a worried note creeping into his voice. ‘I figured…you like simple things. But if you don’t…”

Cupping Pete’s face in his hands, Patrick silenced him with a kiss. “It’s perfect,” he whispered against Pete’s lips. “And so are you. I love you.”

“I love you, too. So fucking much. You don’t know.” Pete stopped for a moment to settle himself. “All I’m asking for is a lifetime to prove it to you.”

“You already have.” Patrick suddenly grinned, his heart soaring into parts unknown. After everything he had been through, to finally have what he had dreamed of for so long… It was the closest thing to a miracle that Patrick had ever known. “And I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.”

“Oh, I have plans. Long, complicated, drawn out plans,” Pete promised, the words coming out in very close to a purr. “Starting with the limo ride back to the hotel and followed by room service, sharing a shower and falling asleep tangled up in each other somewhere around dawn.” Pete grinned. “How does that sound to you, Pattycakes?”

For an answer, Patrick cupped the back of Pete’s head and pulled him into another kiss as the stage lights went dark, signaling the end of the show.

 


End file.
